S.  EDWIN  CORLE,  JR. 
His  Book 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORY  OF 


MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


A   THIEF 
IN    THE    NIGHT 


I  think  she  must  have  seen  us.  even  in  the  dim  light. 


A   THIEF 
IN   THE   NIGHT 


FURTHER    ADVENTURES    OF 

A.    J.    RAFFLES 

CRICKETER    AND    CRACKSMAN 


BY 

E.    W.    HORNUNG 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 

CYRUS   CUNEO 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW    YORK::::::::::::::  1908 


Copyright,  1905,  by 
E.    W.    HORNUNG 


Copyright,  1905,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S   SONS 


PK 

mntk 


CONTENTS 


Out  of  Paradise 

Page 
I 

The  Chest  of  Silver     . 

32 

The  Rest  Cure 

58 

The   Criminologists'   Club            .               , 

88 

The  Field  of  Philippi 

122 

A  Bad  Night 

156 

A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

184 

The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

216 

The  Raffles  Relics 

247 

The  Last  Word 

278 

2039166 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


I  think    she   must    have    seen  us,   even  in   the 

dim  light  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

Facing 
Page 

Raffles  in  the  strong-room  .  .  .54 

It  was  the  fire-eating  and  prison-inspecting  colonel 
himself.  He  was  ready  for  me,  a  revolver  in 
his  hand  .  .  .  .76 

R.affles  was  as  excited  as  any  of  us  now ;  he  out- 
stripped us  all      .  .  •  .106 

He  kept  us  laughing  in   his    study  until  the   chapel 

bells  rang  him  out  .  .  •         I52 

The    ragged     trousers     stripped     from     an    evening 

pair         .  .  .  .  .176 

Down  went  the  trap-door  with   a  bang    .  .        232 

No  one  can  make  out  what    this   little  thick  velvet 

bag's  for  260 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 


Out  of  Paradise 

IF  I  must  tell  more  tales  of  Raffles,  I  can  but 
go  back  to  our  earliest  days  together,  and 
fill  in  the  blanks  left  by  discretion  in  existing 
annals.  In  so  doing  I  may  indeed  fill  some  small 
part  of  an  infinitely  greater  blank,  across  which 
you  may  conceive  me  to  have  stretched  my  canvas 
for  the  first  frank  portrait  of  my  friend.  The 
whole  truth  cannot  harm  him  now.  I  shall  paint 
in  every  wart.  Raffles  was  a  villain,  when  all  is 
written;  it  is  no  service  to  his  memory  to  gloze 
the  fact;  yet  I  have  done  so  myself  before  to-day. 
I  have  omitted  whole  heinous  episodes.  I  have 
dwelt  unduly  on  the  redeeming  side.  And  this  I 
may  do  again,  blinded  even  as  I  write  by  the  gal- 
lant glamour  that  made  my  villain  more  to  me  than 
any  hero.  But  at  least  there  shall  be  no  more 
reservations,  and  as  an  earnest  I  shall  make  no 
further  secret  of  the  greatest  v/rong  that  even 
Raffles  ever  did  me. 

i 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

I  pick  my  words  with  care  and  pain,  loyal  as 
I  still  would  be  to  my  friend,  and  yet  remembering 
as  I  must  those  Ides  of  March  when  he  led  me 
blindfold  into  temptation  and  crime.  That  was 
an  ugly  office,  if  you  will.  It  was  a  moral  baga- 
telle to  the  treacherous  trick  he  was  to  play  me  a 
few  weeks  later.  The  second  offence,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  to  prove  the  less  serious  of  the  two 
against  society,  and  might  in  itself  have  been  pub- 
lished to  the  world  years  ago.  There  have  been 
private  reasons  for  my  reticence.  The  affair  was 
not  only  too  intimately  mine,  and  too  discreditable 
to  Raffles.  One  other  was  involved  in  it,  one 
dearer  to  me  than  Raffles  himself,  one  whose  name 
shall  not  even  now  be  sullied  by  association  with 
ours. 

Suffice  it  that  I  had  been  engaged  to  her  before 
that  mad  March  deed.  True,  her  people  called 
it  "an  understanding,"  and  frowned  even  upon 
that,  as  well  they  might.  But  their  authority  was 
not  direct;  we  bowed  to  it  as  an  act  of  politic 
grace;  between  us,  all  was  well  but  my  unworthi- 
ness.  That  may  be  gauged  when  I  confess  that 
this  was  how  the  matter  stood  on  the  night  I  gave 
a  worthless  check  for  my  losses  at  baccarat,  and 
afterward  turned  to  Raffles  in  my  need.  Even 
after  that  I  saw  her  sometimes.      But  I  let  her 

2 


Out  of  Paradise 

guess  that  there  was  more  upon  my  soul  than  she 
must  ever  share,  and  at  last  I  had  written  to  end 
it  all.  I  remember  that  week  so  well !  It  was 
the  close  of  such  a  May  as  we  had  never  had 
since,  and  I  was  too  miserable  even  to  follow  the 
heavy  scoring  in  the  papers.  Raffles  was  the  only 
man  who  could  get  a  wicket  up  at  Lord's,  and  I 
never  once  went  to  see  him  play.  Against  York- 
shire, however,  he  helped  himself  to  a  hundred 
runs  as  well ;  and  that  brought  Raffles  round  to  me, 
on  his  way  home  to  the  Albany. 

"We  must  dine  and  celebrate  the  rare  event," 
said  he.  "A  century  takes  it  out  of  one  at  my 
time  of  life;  and  you,  Bunny,  you  look  quite  as 
much  in  need  of  your  end  of  a  worthy  bottle.  Sup- 
pose we  make  it  the  Cafe  Royal,  and  eight  sharp? 
I'll  be  there  first  to  fix  up  the  table  and  the  wine." 

And  at  the  Cafe  Royal  I  incontinently  told  him 
of  the  trouble  I  was  in.  It  was  the  first  he  had 
ever  heard  of  my  affair,  and  I  told  him  all,  though 
not  before  our  bottle  had  been  succeeded  by  a  pint 
of  the  same  exemplary  brand.  Raffles  heard  me 
out  with  grave  attention.  His  sympathy  was  the 
more  grateful  for  the  tactful  brevity  with  which  it 
was  indicated  rather  than  expressed.  He  only 
wished  that  I  had  told  him  of  this  complication 
In  the  beginning;  as  I  had  not,  he  agreed  with  me 

3 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

that  the  only  course  was  a  candid  and  complete 
renunciation.  It  was  not  as  though  my  divinity 
had  a  penny  of  her  own,  or  I  could  earn  an  honest 
one.  I  had  explained  to  Raffles  that  she  was  an 
orphan,  who  spent  most  of  her  time  with  an  aris- 
tocratic aunt  in  the  country,  and  the  remainder 
under  the  repressive  roof  of  a  pompous  politician 
in  Palace  Gardens.  The  aunt  had,  I  believed,  still 
a  sneaking  softness  for  me,  but  her  illustrious 
brother  had  set  his  face  against  me  from  the  first. 

"Hector  Carruthers!"  murmured  Raffles,  re- 
peating the  detested  name  with  his  clear,  cold  eye 
on  mine.  "I  suppose  you  haven't  seen  much  of 
him?" 

"Not  a  thing  for  ages,"  I  replied.  "I  was  at 
the  house  two  or  three  days  last  year,  but  they've 
neither  asked  me  since  nor  been  at  home  to  me 
when  I've  called.     The  old  beast  seems  a  judge  of 


men." 


And  I  laughed  bitterly  in  my  glass. 

"Nice  house?"  said  Raffles,  glancing  at  himself 
in  his  silver  cigarette-case. 

"Top  shelf,"  said  I.  "You  know  the  houses 
in  Palace  Gardens,  don't  you?" 

"Not  so  well  as  I  should  like  to  know  them, 
Bunny." 

"Well,  it's  about  the  most  palatial  of  the  lot. 

4 


Out  of  Paradise 

The  old  ruffian  is  as  rich  as  Croesus.     It's  a  coun- 
try-place in  town." 

"What  about  the  window-fastenings?"  asked 
Raffles  casually. 

I  recoiled  from  the  open  cigarette-case  that  he 
proffered  as  he  spoke.  Our  eyes  met;  and  in  his 
there  was  that  starry  twinkle  of  mirth  and  mis- 
chief, that  sunny  beam  of  audacious  devilment, 
which  had  been  my  undoing  two  months  before, 
which  was  to  undo  me  as  often  as  he  chose  until 
the  chapter's  end.  Yet  for  once  I  withstood  its 
glamour;  for  once  I  turned  aside  that  luminous 
glance  with  front  of  steel.  There  was  no  need 
for  Raffles  to  voice  his  plans.  I  read  them  all  be- 
tween the  strong  lines  of  his  smiling,  eager  face. 
And  I  pushed  back  my  chair  in  the  equal  eager- 
ness of  my  own  resolve. 

"Not  if  I  know  it!"  said  I.  "A  house  I've 
dined  in — a  house  I've  seen  her  in — a  house 
where  she  stays  by  the  month  together!  Don't 
put  it  into  words,  Raffles,  or  I'll  get  up  and  go." 

"You  mustn't  do  that  before  the  coffee  and 
liqueur,"  said  Raffles  laughing.  "Have  a  small 
Sullivan  first:  it's  the  royal  road  to  a  cigar.  And 
now  let  me  observe  that  your  scruples  would  do 
you  honor  if  old  Carruthers  still  lived  in  the  house 
in  question." 

5 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  he  doesn't?" 

Raffles  struck  a  match,  and  handed  it  first  to  me. 
"I  mean  to  say,  my  dear  Bunny,  that  Palace  Gar- 
dens knows  the  very  name  no  more.  You  began 
by  telling  me  you  had  heard  nothing  of  these  peo- 
ple all  this  year.  That's  quite  enough  to  account 
for  our  little  misunderstanding.  I  was  thinking 
of  the  house,  and  you  were  thinking  of  the  people 
in  the  house." 

"But  who  are  they,  Raffles?  Who  has  taken 
the  house,  if  old  Carruthers  has  moved,  and  how 
do  you  know  that  it  is  still  worth  a  visit?" 

"In  answer  to  your  first  question — Lord  Loch- 
maben,"  replied  Raffles,  blowing  bracelets  of 
smoke  toward  the  ceiling.  "You  look  as  though 
you  had  never  heard  of  him;  but  as  the  cricket  and 
racing  are  the  only  part  of  your  paper  that  you 
condescend  to  read,  you  can't  be  expected  to  keep 
track  of  all  the  peers  created  in  your  time.  Your 
other  question  is  not  worth  answering.  How  do 
you  suppose  that  I  know  these  things?  It's  my 
business  to  get  to  know  them,  and  that's  all  there 
is  to  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Lady  Lochmaben 
has  just  as  good  diamonds  as  Mrs.  Carruthers 
ever  had;  and  the  chances  are  that  she  keeps  them 
where  Mrs.  Carruthers  kept  hers,  if  you  could 
enlighten  me  on  that  point." 

6 


Out  of  Paradise 

As  it  happened,  I  could,  since  I  knew  from  his 
niece  that  it  was  one  on  which  Mr.  Carruthers 
had  been  a  faddist  in  his  time.  He  had  made  quite 
a  study  of  the  cracksman's  craft,  in  a  resolve  to 
circumvent  it  with  his  own.  I  remembered  myself 
how  the  ground-floor  windows  were  elaborately 
bolted  and  shuttered,  and  how  the  doors  of  all  the 
rooms  opening  upon  the  square  inner  hall  were 
fitted  with  extra  Yale  locks,  at  an  unlikely  height, 
not  to  be  discovered  by  one  within  the  room.  It 
had  been  the  butler's  business  to  turn  and  to  col- 
lect all  these  keys  before  retiring  for  the  night. 
But  the  key  of  the  safe  in  the  study  was  supposed 
to  be  in  the  jealous  keeping  of  the  master  of  the 
house  himself.  That  safe  was  in  its  turn  so  in- 
geniously hidden  that  I  never  should  have  found 
it  for  myself.  I  well  remember  how  one  who 
showed  it  to  me  (in  the  innocence  of  her  heart) 
laughed  as  she  assured  me  that  even  her  little 
trinkets  were  solemnly  locked  up  in  it  every  night. 
It  had  been  let  into  the  wall  behind  one  end  of 
the  book-case,  expressly  to  preserve  the  barbaric 
splendor  of  Mrs.  Carruthers;  without  a  doubt 
these  Lochmabens  would  use  it  for  the  same  pur- 
pose; and  in  the  altered  circumstances  I  had 
no  hesitation  in  giving  Raffles  all  the  informa- 
tion he  desired.     I  even  drew  him  a  rough  plan 

7 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

of  the  ground-floor  on  the  back  of  my  menu- 
card. 

"It  was  rather  clever  of  you  to  notice  the  kind 
of  locks  on  the  inner  doors,"  he  remarked  as  he 
put  it  in  his  pocket.  "I  suppose  you  don't  remem- 
ber if  it  was  a  Yale  on  the  front  door  as  well?" 

"It  was  not,"  I  was  able  to  answer  quite 
promptly.  "I  happen  to  know  because  I  once  had 
the  key  when — when  we  went  to  a  theatre  to- 
gether." 

"Thank  you,  old  chap,"  said  Raffles  sympa- 
thetically. "That's  all  I  shall  want  from  you, 
Bunny,  my  boy.     There's  no  night  like  to-night!" 

It  was  one  of  his  sayings  when  bent  upon  his 
worst.  I  looked  at  him  aghast.  Our  cigars  were 
just  in  blast,  yet  already  he  was  signalling  for  his 
bill.  It  was  impossible  to  remonstrate  with  him 
until  we  were  both  outside  in  the  street. 

"I'm  coming  with  you,"  said  I,  running  my  arm 
through  his. 

"Nonsense,    Bunny!" 

"Why  is  it  nonsense?  I  know  every  inch  of  the 
ground,  and  since  the  house  has  changed  hands  I 
have  no  compunction.  Besides,  'I  have  been 
there'  in  the  other  sense  as  well :  once  a  thief,  you 
know!     In  for  a  penny,  in  for  a  pound!" 

It  was  ever  my  mood  when  the  blood  was  up. 

8 


Out  of  Paradise 

But  my  old  friend  failed  to  appreciate  the  char- 
acteristic as  he  usually  did.  We  crossed  Regent 
Street  in  silence.  I  had  to  catch  his  sleeve  to  keep 
a  hand  in  his  inhospitable  arm. 

"I  really  think  you  had  better  stay  away,"  said 
Raffles  as  we  reached  the  other  curb.  "I've  no 
use  for  you  this  time." 

"Yet  I  thought  I  had  been  so  useful  up  to 
now?" 

"That  may  be,  Bunny,  but  I  tell  you  frankly 
I  don't  want  you  to-night." 

"Yet  I  know  the  ground  and  you  don't!  I 
tell  you  what,"  said  I :  "I'll  come  just  to  show 
you  the  ropes,  and  I  won't  take  a  pennyweight  of 
the  swag." 

Such  was  the  teasing  fashion  in  which  he  in- 
variably prevailed  upon  me;  it  was  delightful  to 
note  how  it  caused  him  to  yield  in  his  turn.  But 
Raffles  had  the  grace  to  give  in  with  a  laugh, 
whereas  I  too  often  lost  my  temper  with  my 
point. 

"You  little  rabbit!"  he  chuckled.  "You  shall 
have  your  share,  whether  you  come  or  not;  but, 
seriously,  don't  you  think  you  might  remember 
the  girl?" 

"What's  the  use?"  I  groaned.  "You  agree 
there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  give  her  up.  I  am 

9 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

glad  to  say  that  for  myself  before  I  asked  you, 
and  wrote  to  tell  her  so  on  Sunday.  Now  it's 
Wednesday,  and  she  hasn't  answered  by  line  or 
sign.  It's  waiting  for  one  word  from  her  that's 
driving  me  mad." 

"Perhaps  you  wrote  to  Palace  Gardens?" 

"No,  I  sent  it  to  the  country.  There's  been  time 
for  an  answer,  wherever  she  may  be." 

We  had  reached  the  Albany,  and  halted  with 
one  accord  at  the  Piccadilly  portico,  red  cigar  to 
red  cigar. 

"You  wouldn't  like  to  go  and  see  if  the  an- 
swer's in  your  rooms?"  he  asked. 

"No.  What's  the  good?  Where's  the  point 
in  giving  her  up  if  I'm  going  to  straighten  out 
when  it's  too  late?  It  is  too  late,  I  have  given 
her  up,  and  I  am  coming  with  you !" 

The  hand  that  bowled  the  most  puzzling  ball 
in  England  (once  it  found  its  length)  descended 
on  my  shoulder  with  surprising  promptitude. 

"Very  well,  Bunny!  That's  finished;  but  your 
blood  be  on  your  own  pate  if  evil  comes  of  it. 
Meanwhile  we  can't  do  better  than  turn  in  here 
till  you  have  finished  your  cigar  as  it  deserves, 
and  topped  up  with  such  a  cup  of  tea  as  you  must 
learn  to  like  if  you  hope  to  get  on  in  your  new 
profession.       And    when    the    hours    are    small 

10 


Out  of  Paradise 

enough,  Bunny,  my  boy,  I  don't  mind  admitting 
I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  with  me." 

I  have  a  vivid  memory  of  the  interim  in  his 
rooms.  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  first  and 
last  of  its  kind  that  I  was  called  upon  to  sustain 
with  so  much  knowledge  of  what  lay  before  me. 
I  passed  the  time  with  one  restless  eye  upon  the 
clock,  and  the  other  on  the  Tantalus  which  Raffles 
ruthlessly  declined  to  unlock.  He  admitted  that  it 
was  like  waiting  with  one's  pads  on;  and  in  my 
slender  experience  of  the  game  of  which  he  was  a 
world's  master,  that  was  an  ordeal  not  to  be  en- 
dured without  a  general  quaking  of  the  inner  man. 
I  was,  on  the  other  hand,  all  right  when  I  got  to 
the  metaphorical  wicket;  and  half  the  surprises 
that  Raffles  sprung  on  me  were  doubtless  due  to 
his  early  recognition  of  the  fact. 

On  this  occasion  I  fell  swiftly  and  hopelessly 
out  of  love  with  the  prospect  I  had  so  gratui- 
tously embraced.  It  was  not  only  my  repugnance 
to  enter  that  house  in  that  way,  which  grew  upon 
my  better  judgment  as  the  artificial  enthusiasm 
of  the  evening  evaporated  from  my  veins.  Strong 
as  that  repugnance  became,  I  had  an  even 
stronger  feeling  that  we  were  embarking  on  an 
important  enterprise  far  too  much  upon  the  spur 
of   the   moment.      The   latter   qualm   I   had   the 

ii 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

temerity  to  confess  to  Raffles;  nor  have  I  often 
loved  him  more  than  when  he  freely  admitted  it 
to  be  the  most  natural  feeling  in  the  world.  He 
assured  me,  however,  that  he  had  had  my  Lady 
Lochmaben  and  her  jewels  in  his  mind  for  several 
months;  he  had  sat  behind  them  at  first  nights; 
and  long  ago  determined  what  to  take  or  to  reject; 
in  fine,  he  had  only  been  waiting  for  those  topo- 
graphical details  which  it  had  been  my  chance 
privilege  to  supply.  I  now  learned  that  he  had 
numerous  houses  in  a  similar  state  upon  his  list; 
something  or  other  was  wanting  in  each  case  in 
order  to  complete  his  plans.  In  that  of  the  Bond 
Street  jeweller  it  was  a  trusty  accomplice;  in  the 
present  instance,  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  house.  And  lastly,  this  was  a  Wednesday 
night,  when  the  tired  legislator  gets  early  to 
his  bed. 

How  I  wish  I  could  make  the  whole  world  see 
and  hear  him,  and  smell  the  smoke  of  his  beloved 
Sullivan,  as  he  took  me  into  these,  the  secrets  of 
his  infamous  trade!  Neither  look  nor  language 
would  betray  the  infamy.  As  a  mere  talker,  I 
shall  never  listen  to  the  like  of  Raffles  on  this  side 
of  the  sod;  and  his  talk  was  seldom  garnished  by 
an  oath,  never  in  my  remembrance  by  the  unclean 
word.     Then   he    looked    like   a   man   who   had 

12 


Out  of  Paradise 

dressed  to  dine  out,  not  like  one  who  had  long 
since  dined;  for  his  curly  hair,  though  longer  than 
another's,  was  never  untidy  in  its  length;  and 
these  were  the  days  when  it  was  still  as  black  as 
ink.  Nor  were  there  many  lines  as  yet  upon  the 
smooth  and  mobile  face;  and  its  frame  was  still 
that  dear  den  of  disorder  and  good  taste,  with  the 
carved  book-case,  the  dresser  and  chests  of  still 
older  oak,  and  the  Wattses  and  Rossettis  hung 
anyhow  on  the  walls. 

It  must  have  been  one  o'clock  before  we  drove 
in  a  hansom  as  far  as  Kensington  Church,  instead 
of  getting  down  at  the  gates  of  our  private  road 
to  ruin.  Constitutionally  shy  of  the  direct  ap- 
proach, Raffles  was  further  deterred  by  a  ball  in 
full  swing  at  the  Empress  Rooms,  whence  poten- 
tial witnesses  were  pouring  between  dances  into 
the  cool  deserted  street.  Instead  he  led  me  a 
little  way  up  Church  Street,  and  so  through  the 
narrow  passage  into  Palace  Gardens.  He  knew 
the  house  as  well  as  I  did.  We  made  our  first 
survey  from  the  other  side  of  the  road.  And  the 
house  was  not  quite  in  darkness;  there  was  a  dim 
light  over  the  door,  a  brighter  one  in  the  stables, 
which  stood  still  farther  back  from  the  road. 

"That's  a  bit  of  a  bore,"  said  Raffles.  "The 
ladies  have  been  out  somewhere — trust  them  to 

13 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

spoil  the  show !  They  would  get  to  bed  before 
the  stable  folk,  but  insomnia  is  the  curse  of  their 
sex  and  our  profession.  Somebody's  not  home 
yet;  that  will  be  the  son  of  the  house;  but  he's  a 
beauty,  who  may  not  come  home  at  all." 

"Another  Alick  Carruthers,"  I  murmured,  re- 
calling the  one  I  liked  least  of  all  the  household, 
as  I  remembered  it. 

"They  might  be  brothers,"  rejoined  Raffles, 
who  knew  all  the  loose  fish  about  town.  "Well, 
I'm  not  sure  that  I  shall  want  you  after  all, 
Bunny." 

"Why  not?" 

"If  the  front  door's  only  on  the  latch,  and 
you're  right  about  the  lock,  I  shall  walk  in  as 
though  I  were  the  son  of  the  house  myself." 

And  he  jingled  the  skeleton  bunch  that  he  car- 
ried on  a  chain  as  honest  men  carry  their  latch- 
keys. 

"You  forget  the  inner  doors  and  the  safe." 

"True.  You  might  be  useful  to  me  there.  But 
I  still  don't  like  leading  you  in  where  it  isn't  abso- 
lutely necessary,  Bunny." 

"Then  let  me  lead  you,  I  answered,  and  forth- 
with marched  across  the  broad,  secluded  road, 
with  the  great  houses  standing  back  on  either  side 
in  their  ample  gardens,  as  though  the  one  oppo- 

14 


Out  of  Paradise 

site  belonged  to  me.  I  thought  Raffles  had  stayed 
behind,  for  I  never  heard  him  at  my  heels,  yet 
there  he  was  when  I  turned  round  at  the  gate. 

"I  must  teach  you  the  step,"  he  whispered, 
shaking  his  head.  "You  shouldn't  use  your  heel 
at  all.  Here's  a  grass  border  for  you:  walk  it 
as  you  would  the  plank!  Gravel  makes  a  noise, 
and  flower-beds  tell  a  tale.  Wait — I  must  carry 
you  across  this." 

It  was  the  sweep  of  the  drive,  and  in  the  dim 
light  from  above  the  door,  the  soft  gravel, 
ploughed  into  ridges  by  the  night's  wheels,  threat- 
ened an  alarm  at  every  step.  Yet  Raffles,  with 
me  in  his  arms,  crossed  the  zone  of  peril  softly  as 
the  pard. 

"Shoes  in  your  pocket — that's  the  beauty  of 
pumps!"  he  whispered  on  the  step;  his  light 
bunch  tinkled  faintly;  a  couple  of  keys  he  stooped 
and  tried,  with  the  touch  of  a  humane  dentist; 
the  third  let  us  into  the  porch.  And  as  we  stood 
together  on  the  mat,  as  he  was  gradually  closing 
the  door,  a  clock  within  chimed  a  half-hour  in 
fashion  so  thrillingly  familiar  to  me  that  I  caught 
Raffles  by  the  arm.  My  half-hours  of  happiness 
had  flown  to  just  such  chimes !  I  looked  wildly 
about  me  in  the  dim  light.  Hat-stand  and  oak 
settee  belonged  equally  to  my  past.     And  Raffles 

15 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

was  smiling  in  my  face  as  he  held  the  door  wide 
for  my  escape. 

"You  told  me  a  lie  1"  I  gasped  in  whispers. 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  replied.  "The 
furniture's  the  furniture  of  Hector  Carruthers, 
but  the  house  is  the  house  of  Lord  Lochmaben. 
Look  here!" 

He  had  stooped,  and  was  smoothing  out  the 
discarded  envelope  of  a  telegram.  "Lord  Loch- 
maben," I  read  in  pencil  by  the  dim  light;  and 
the  case  was  plain  to  me  on  the  spot.  My  friends 
had  let  their  house,  furnished,  as  anybody  but 
Raffles  would  have  explained  to  me  in  the  be- 
ginning. 

"All  right,"  I  said.    "Shut  the  door." 

And  he  not  only  shut  it  without  a  sound,  but 
drew  a  bolt  that  might  have  been  sheathed  in 
rubber. 

In  another  minute  we  were  at  work  upon  the 
study-door,  I  with  the  tiny  lantern  and  the  bottle 
of  rock-oil,  he  with  the  brace  and  the  largest  bit. 
The  Yale  lock  he  had  given  up  at  a  glance.  It 
was  placed  high  up  in  the  door,  feet  above  the 
handle,  and  the  chain  of  holes  with  which  Raffles 
had  soon  surrounded  it  were  bored  on  a  level  with 
his  eyes.  Yet  the  clock  in  the  hall  chimed  again, 
and  two  ringing  strokes  resounded  through   the 

16 


Out  of  Paradise 

silent  house  before  we  gained  admittance  to  the 
room. 

Raffle's  next  care  was  to  muffle  the  bell  on  the 
shuttered  window  (with  a  silk  handkerchief  from 
the  hat-stand)  and  to  prepare  an  emergency  exit 
by  opening  first  the  shutters  and  then  the  window 
itself.  Luckily  it  was  a  still  night,  and  very  little 
wind  came  in  to  embarrass  us.  He  then  began 
operations  on  the  safe,  revealed  by  me  behind  its 
folding  screen  of  books,  while  I  stood  sentry  on 
the  threshold.  I  may  have  stood  there  for  a 
dozen  minutes,  listening  to  the  loud  hall  clock  and 
to  the  gentle  dentistry  of  Raffles  in  the  mouth  of 
the  safe  behind  me,  when  a  third  sound  thrilled 
my  every  nerve.  It  was  the  equally  cautious  open- 
ing of  a  door  in  the  gallery  overhead. 

I  moistened  my  lips  to  whisper  a  word  of  warn- 
ing to  Raffles.  But  his  ears  had  been  as  quick  as 
mine,  and  something  longer.  His  lantern  dark- 
ened as  I  turned  my  head;  next  moment  I  felt  his 
breath  upon  the  back  of  my  neck.  It  was  now  too 
late  even  for  a  whisper,  and  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  close  the  mutilated  door.  There  we  could 
only  stand,  I  on  the  threshold,  Raffles  at  my  elbow, 
while  one  carrying  a  candle  crept  down  the  stairs. 

The  study-door  was  at  right  angles  to  the  lowest 
flight,  and  just  to  the  right  of  one  alighting  in  the 

17 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

hall.  It  was  thus  impossible  for  us  to  see  who  it 
was  until  the  person  was  close  abreast  of  us;  but 
by  the  rustle  of  the  gown  we  knew  that  it  was  one 
of  the  ladies,  and  dressed  just  as  she  had  come 
from  theatre  or  ball.  Insensibly  I  drew  back  as 
the  candle  swam  into  our  field  of  vision:  it  had 
not  traversed  many  inches  when  a  hand  was 
clapped  firmly  but  silently  across  my  mouth. 

I  could  forgive  Raffles  for  that,  at  any  rate! 
In  another  breath  I  should  have  cried  aloud:  for 
the  girl  with  the  candle,  the  girl  in  her  ball-dress, 
at  dead  of  night,  the  girl  with  the  letter  for  the 
post,  was  the  last  girl  on  God's  wide  earth  whom 
I  should  have  chosen  thus  to  encounter — a  mid- 
night intruder  in  the  very  house  where  I  had  been 
reluctantly  received  on  her  account! 

I  forgot  Raffles.  I  forgot  the  new  and  unfor- 
givable grudge  I  had  against  him  now.  I  forgot 
his  very  hand  across  my  mouth,  even  before  he 
paid  me  the  compliment  of  removing  it.  There 
was  the  only  girl  in  all  the  world:  I  had 
eyes  and  brains  for  no  one  and  for  nothing  else. 
She  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  us,  had  looked 
neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  the  left.  But  a  small 
oak  table  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall; 
it  was  to  this  table  that  she  went.  On  it  was  one 
of  those  boxes  in  which  one  puts  one's  letters  for 

18 


Out  of  Paradise 

the  post;  and  she  stooped  to  read  by  her  candle 
the  times  at  which  this  box  was  cleared. 

The  loud  clock  ticked  and  ticked.  She  was 
standing  at  her  full  height  now,  her  candle  on  the 
table,  her  letter  in  both  hands,  and  in  her  down- 
cast face  a  sweet  and  pitiful  perplexity  that  drew 
the  tears  to  my  eyes.  Through  a  film  I  saw  her 
open  the  envelope  so  lately  sealed  and  read  her 
letter  once  more,  as  though  she  would  have  altered 
it  a  little  at  the  last.  It  was  too  late  for  that;  but 
of  a  sudden  she  plucked  a  rose  from  her  bosom, 
and  was  pressing  it  in  with  her  letter  when  I 
groaned  aloud. 

How  could  I  help  it?  The  letter  was  for  me: 
of  that  I  was  as  sure  as  though  I  had  been  looking 
over  her  shoulder.  She  was  as  true  as  tempered 
steel ;  there  were  not  two  of  us  to  whom  she  wrote 
and  sent  roses  at  dead  of  night.  It  was  her  one 
chance  of  writing  to  me.  None  would  know  that 
she  had  written.  And  she  cared  enough  to  soften 
the  reproaches  I  had  richly  earned,  with  a  red  rose 
warm  from  her  own  warm  heart.  And  there,  and 
there  was  I,  a  common  thief  who  had  broken  in  to 
steal!  Yet  I  was  unaware  that  I  had  uttered  a 
sound  until  she  looked  up,  startled,  and  the  hands 
behind  me  pinned  me  where  I  stood. 

I  think  she  must  have  seen  us,  even  in  the  dim 

T9 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

light  of  the  solitary  candle.  Yet  not  a  sound 
escaped  her  as  she  peered  courageously  in  our 
direction;  neither  did  one  of  us  move;  but  the  hall 
clock  went  on  and  on,  every  tick  like  the  beat  of 
a  drum  to  bring  the  house  about  our  ears,  until  a 
minute  must  have  passed  as  in  some  breathless 
dream.  And  then  came  the  awakening — with 
such  a  kocking  and  a  ringing  at  the  front  door 
as  brought  all  three  of  us  to  our  senses  on  the 
spot. 

"The  son  of  the  house!"  whispered  Raffles  in 
my  ear,  as  he  dragged  me  back  to  the  window  he 
had  left  open  for  our  escape.  But  as  he  leaped 
out  first  a  sharp  cry  stopped  me  at  the  sill.  "Get 
back !  Get  back !  We're  trapped  !"  he  cried;  and 
in  the  single  second  that  I  stood  there,  I  saw  him 
fell  one  officer  to  the  ground,  and  dart  across  the 
lawn  with  another  at  his  heels.  A  third  came 
running  up  to  the  window.  What  could  I  do  but 
double  back  into  the  house?  And  there  in  the  hall 
I  met  my  lost  love  face  to  face. 

Till  that  moment  she  had  not  recognized  me. 
I  ran  to  catch  her  as  she  all  but  fell.  And  my 
touch  repelled  her  into  life,  so  that  she  shook  me 
off,  and  stood  gasping:  "You,  of  all  men!  You, 
of  all  men!"  until  I  could  bear  it  no  more,  but 
broke   again   for  the   study-window.      "Not  that 

20 


Out  of  Paradise 

way — not  that  way!"  she  cried  in  an  agony  at 
that.  Her  hands  were  upon  me  now.  "In  there, 
in  there,"  she  whispered,  pointing  and  pulling  me 
to  a  mere  cupboard  under  the  stairs,  where  hats 
and  coats  were  hung;  and  it  was  she  who  shut  the 
door  on  me  with  a  sob. 

Doors  were  already  opening  overhead,  voices 
calling,  voices  answering,  the  alarm  running  like 
wildfire  from  room  to  room.  Soft  feet  pattered 
in  the  gallery  and  down  the  stairs  about  my  very 
ears.  I  do  not  know  what  made  me  put  on  my 
own  shoes  as  I  heard  them,  but  I  think  that  I  was 
ready  and  even  longing  to  walk  out  and  give 
myself  up.  I  need  not  say  what  and  who  it  was 
that  alone  restrained  me.  I  heard  her  name.  I 
heard  them  crying  to  her  as  though  she  had 
fainted.  I  recognized  the  detested  voice  of  my 
bete  noir,  Alick  Carruthers,  thick  as  might  be  ex- 
pected of  the  dissipated  dog,  yet  daring  to  stutter 
out  her  name.  And  then  I  heard,  without  catch- 
ing, her  low  reply;  it  was  in  answer  to  the  some- 
what stern  questioning  of  quite  another  voice;  and 
from  what  followed  I  knew  that  she  had  never 
fainted  at  all. 

"Upstairs,  miss,  did  he?    Are  you  sure?" 
I  did  not  hear  her  answer.     I  conceive  her  as 
simply  pointing  up  the  stairs.     In  any  case,  about 

21 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

my  very  ears  once  more,  there  now  followed  such 
a  patter  and  tramp  of  bare  and  booted  feet  as 
renewed  in  me  a  base  fear  for  my  own  skin.  But 
voices  and  feet  passed  over  my  head,  went  up 
and  up,  higher  and  higher;  and  I  was  wondering 
whether  or  not  to  make  a  dash  for  it,  when  one 
light  pair  came  running  down  again,  and  in  very 
despair  I  marched  out  to  meet  my  preserver,  look- 
ing as  little  as  I  could  like  the  abject  thing  I  felt. 

"Be  quick!"  she  cried  in  a  harsh  whisper,  and 
pointed  peremptorily  to  the  porch. 

But  I  stood  stubbornly  before  her,  my  heart 
hardened  by  her  hardness,  and  perversely  indif- 
ferent to  all  else.  And  as  I  stood  I  saw  the  letter 
she  had  written,  in  the  hand  with  which  she 
pointed,  crushed  into  a  ball. 

"Quickly!"  She  stamped  her  foot.  "Quickly 
— if  you  ever  cared!" 

This  in  a  whisper,  without  bitterness,  without 
contempt,  but  with  a  sudden  wild  entreaty  that 
breathed  upon  the  dying  embers  of  my  poor  man- 
hood. I  drew  myself  together  for  the  last  time 
in  her  sight.  I  turned,  and  left  her  as  she  wished 
— for  her  sake,  not  for  mine.  And  as  I  went  I 
heard  her  tearing  her  letter  into  little  pieces,  and 
the  little  pieces  falling  on  the  floor. 

Then   I   remembered    Raffles,    and   could   have 

22 


Out  of  Paradise 

killed  him  for  what  he  had  done.  Doubtless  by 
this  time  he  was  safe  and  snug  in  the  Albany: 
what  did  my  fate  matter  to  him?  Never  mind; 
this  should  be  the  end  between  him  and  me  as 
well;  it  was  the  end  of  everything,  this  dark  night's 
work !  I  would  go  and  tell  him  so.  I  would  jump 
into  a  cab  and  drive  there  and  then  to  his  ac- 
cursed rooms.  But  first  I  must  escape  from  the 
trap  in  which  he  had  been  so  ready  to  leave  me. 
And  on  the  very  steps  I  drew  back  in  despair. 
They  were  searching  the  shrubberies  between  the 
drive  and  the  road;  a  policeman's  lantern  kept 
flashing  in  and  out  among  the  laurels,  while  a 
young  man  in  evening-clothes  directed  him  from 
the  gravel  sweep.  It  was  this  young  man  whom 
I  must  dodge,  but  at  my  first  step  in  the  gravel  he 
wheeled  round,  and  it  was  Raffles  himself. 

"Hulloa!"  he  cried.  "So  you've  come  up  to 
join  the  dance  as  well!  Had  a  look  inside,  have 
you?  You'll  be  better  employed  in  helping  to 
draw  the  cover  in  front  here.  It's  all  right,  officer 
— only  another  gentleman  from  the  Empress 
Rooms." 

And  we  made  a  brave  show  of  assisting  in  the 
futile  search,  until  the  arrival  of  more  police,  and 
a  broad  hint  from  an  irritable  sergeant,  gave  us 
an  excellent  excuse  for  going  off  arm-in-arm.     But 

23 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

it  was  Raffles  who  had  thrust  his  arm  through 
mine.  I  shook  him  off  as  we  left  the  scene  of 
shame  behind. 

"My  dear  Bunny!"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  you 
know  what  brought  me  back?" 

I  answered  savagely  that  I  neither  knew  nor 
cared. 

"I  had  the  very  devil  of  a  squeak  for  it,"  he 
went  on.  "I  did  the  hurdles  over  two  or  three 
garden-walls,  but  so  did  the  flyer  who  was  on  my 
tracks,  and  he  drove  me  back  into  the  straight  and 
down  to  High  Street  like  any  lamplighter.  If  he 
had  only  had  the  breath  to  sing  out  it  would  have 
been  all  up  with  me  then;  as  it  was  I  pulled  off  my 
coat  the  moment  I  was  round  the  corner,  and  took 
a  ticket  for  it  at  the  Empress  Rooms." 

"I  suppose  you  had  one  for  the  dance  that  was 
going  on,"  I  growled.  Nor  would  it  have  been 
a  coincidence  for  Raffles  to  have  had  a  ticket  for 
that  or  any  other  entertainment  of  the  London 
season. 

"I  never  asked  what  the  dance  was,"  he  re- 
turned. "I  merely  took  the  opportunity  of  revis- 
ing my  toilet,  and  getting  rid  of  that  rather  dis- 
tinctive overcoat,  which  I  shall  call  for  now. 
They're  not  too  particular  at  such  stages  of  such 
proceedings,  but  I've  no  doubt  I  should  have  seen 

24 


Out  of  Paradise 

someone  I  knew  if  I  had  gone  right  in.  I  might 
even  have  had  a  turn,  if  only  I  had  been  less  uneasy 
about  you,  Bunny." 

"It  was  like  you  to  come  back  to  help  me  out," 
said  I.  "But  to  lie  to  me,  and  to  inveigle  me  with 
your  lies  into  that  house  of  all  houses — that  was 
not  like  you,  Raffles — and  I  never  shall  forgive 
it  or  you!" 

Raffles  took  my  arm  again.  We  were  near 
the  High  Street  gates  of  Palace  Gardens,  and  I 
was  too  miserable  to  resist  an  advance  which  I 
meant  never  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  repeat. 

"Come,  come,  Bunny,  there  wasn't  much  in- 
veigling about  it,"  said  he.  "I  did  my  level  best 
to  leave  you  behind,  but  you  wouldn't  listen 
to  me." 

"If  you  had  told  me  the  truth  I  should  have 
listened  fast  enough,"  I  retorted.  "But  what's 
the  use  of  talking?  You  can  boast  of  your  own 
adventures  after  you  bolted.  You  don't  care  what 
happened  to  me." 

"I  cared  so  much  that  I  came  back  to  see." 

'You  might  have  spared  yourself  the  trouble ! 
The  wrong  had  been  done.  Raffles — Raffles — 
don't  you  know  who  she  was?" 

It  was  my  hand  that  gripped  his  arm  once 
more. 

25 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"I  guessed,"  he  answered,  gravely  enough  even 

for  me. 

"It  was  she  who  saved  me,  not  you,"  I  said. 
"And  that  is  the  bitterest  part  of  all!" 

Yet  I  told  him  that  part  with  a  strange  sad 
pride  in  her  whom  I  had  lost — through  him — 
forever.  As  I  ended  we  turned  into  High  Street; 
in  the  prevailing  stillness,  the  faint  strains  of  the 
band  reached  us  from  the  Empress  Rooms;  and 
I  hailed  a  crawling  hansom  as  Raffles  turned 
that  way. 

"Bunny,"  said  he,  "it's  no  use  saying  I'm  sorry. 
Sorrow  adds  insult  in  a  case  like  this — if  ever 
there  was  or  will  be  such  another !  Only  believe 
me,  Bunny,  when  I  swear  to  you  that  I  had  not 
the  smallest  shadow  of  a  suspicion  that  she  was  in 
the  house." 

And  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  did  believe  him; 
but  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  say  the  words. 

"You  told  me  yourself  that  you  had  written 
to  her  in  the  country,"  he  pursued. 

"And  that  letter!"  I  rejoined,  in  a  fresh  wave 
of  bitterness:  "that  letter  she  had  written  at  dead 
of  night,  and  stolen  down  to  post,  it  was  the  one 
I  have  been  waiting  for  all  these  days !  I  should 
have  got  it  to-morrow.  Now  I  shall  never  get  it, 
never   hear   from   her   again,    nor   have   another 

26 


Out  of  Paradise 

chance  in  this  world  or  in  the  next.  I  don't  say- 
it  was  all  your  fault.  You  no  more  knew  that  she 
was  there  than  I  did.  But  you  told  me  a  deliber- 
ate lie  about  her  people,  and  that  I  never  shall 
forgive." 

I  spoke  as  vehemently  as  I  could  under  my 
breath.     The  hansom  was  waiting  at  the  curb. 

"I  can  say  no  more  than  I  have  said,"  returned 
Raffles  with  a  shrug.  "Lie  or  no  lie,  I  didn't  tell 
it  to  bring  you  with  me,  but  to  get  you  to  give  me 
certain  information  without  feeling  a  beast  about 
it.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  no  lie  about 
old  Hector  Carruthers  and  Lord  Lochmaben,  and 
anybody  but  you  would  have  guessed  the  truth." 

"What  is  the  truth?" 

"I  as  good  as  told  you,  Bunny,  again  and 
again." 

"Then  tell  me  now." 

"If  you  read  your  paper  there  would  be  no 
need;  but  if  you  want  to  know,  old  Carruthers 
headed  the  list  of  the  Birthday  Honors,  and  Lord 
Lochmaben  is  the  title  of  his  choice." 

And  this  miserable  quibble  was  not  a  lie !  My 
lip  curled,  I  turned  my  back  without  a  word,  and 
drove  home  to  my  Mount  Street  flat  in  a  new 
fury  of  savage  scorn.  Not  a  lie,  indeed!  It  was 
the  one  that  is  half  a  truth,  the  meanest  lie  of  all, 

V 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

and  the  very  last  to  which  I  could  have  dreamt 
that  Raffles  would  stoop.  So  far  there  had  been 
a  degree  of  honor  between  us,  if  only  of  the  kind 
understood  to  obtain  between  thief  and  thief. 
Now  all  that  was  at  an  end.  Raffles  had  cheated 
me.  Raffles  had  completed  the  ruin  of  my  life. 
I  was  done  with  Raffles,  as  she  who  shall  not  be 
named  was  done  with  me. 

And  yet,  even  while  I  blamed  him  most  bit- 
terly, and  utterly  abominated  his  deceitful  deed, 
I  could  not  but  admit  in  my  heart  that  the  result 
was  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  intent:  he  had 
never  dreamt  of  doing  me  this  injury,  or  indeed 
any  injury  at  all.  Intrinsically  the  deceit  had  been 
quite  venial,  the  reason  for  it  obviously  the  reason 
that  Raffles  had  given  me.  It  was  quite  true  that 
he  had  spoken  of  this  Lochmaben  peerage  as  a  new 
creation,  and  of  the  heir  to  it  in  a  fashion  only 
applicable  to  Alick  Carruthers.  He  had  given 
me  hints,  which  I  had  been  too  dense  to  take,  and 
he  had  certainly  made  more  than  one  attempt  to 
deter  me  from  accompanying  him  on  this  fatal 
emprise;  had  he  been  more  explicit,  I  might  have 
made  it  my  business  to  deter  him.  I  could  not 
say  in  my  heart  that  Raffles  had  failed  to  satisfy 
such  honor  as  I  might  reasonably  expect  to  sub- 
sist between  us.  Yet  it  seems  to  me  to  require  a 
superhuman  sanity  always  and  unerringly  to  sepa- 

28 


Out  of  Paradise 

rate  cause  from  effect,  achievement  from  intent. 
And  I,  for  one,  was  never  quite  able  to  do  so  in 
this  case. 

I  could  not  be  accused  of  neglecting  my  news- 
paper during  the  next  few  wretched  days.  I  read 
every  word  that  I  could  find  about  the  attempted 
jewel-robbery  in  Palace  Gardens,  and  the  reports 
afforded  me  my  sole  comfort.  In  the  first  place, 
it  was  only  an  attempted  robbery;  nothing  had 
been  taken,  after  all.  And  then — and  then — the 
one  member  of  the  household  who  had  come  near- 
est to  a  personal  encounter  with  either  of  us  was 
unable  to  furnish  any  description  of  the  man — 
had  even  expressed  a  doubt  as  to  the  likelihood 
of  identification  in  the  event  of  an  arrest ! 

I  will  not  say  with  what  mingled  feelings  I  read 
and  dwelt  on  that  announcement.  It  kept  a  cer- 
tain faint  glow  alive  within  me  until  the  morning 
brought  me  back  the  only  presents  I  had  ever 
made  her.  They  were  books;  jewellery  had  been 
tabooed  by  the  authorities.  And  the  books  came 
back  without  a  word,  though  the  parcel  was  di- 
rected in  her  hand. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  near  Raffles 
again,  but  in  my  heart  I  already  regretted  my 
resolve.  I  had  forfeited  love,  I  had  sacrificed 
honor,  and  now  I  must  deliberately  alienate  myself 
from  the  one  being  whose  society  might  yet  be 

29 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

some  recompense  for  all  that  I  had  lost.  The 
situation  was  aggravated  by  the  state  of  my  ex- 
chequer. I  expected  an  ultimatum  from  my  banker 
by  every  post.  Yet  this  influence  was  nothing  to 
the  other.  It  was  Raffles  I  loved.  It  was  not  the 
dark  life  we  led  together,  still  less  its  base  rewards; 
it  was  the  man  himself,  his  gayety,  his  humor,  his 
dazzling  audacity,  his  incomparable  courage  and 
resource.  And  a  very  horror  of  turning  to  him 
again  in  mere  need  of  greed  set  the  seal  on  my 
first  angry  resolution.  But  the  anger  was  soon 
gone  out  of  me,  and  when  at  length  Raffles  bridged 
the  gap  by  coming  to  me,  I  rose  to  greet  him 
almost  with  a  shout. 

He  came  as  though  nothing  had  happened;  and, 
indeed,  not  very  many  days  had  passed,  though 
they  might  have  been  months  to  me.  Yet  I  fan- 
cied the  gaze  that  watched  me  through  our  smoke 
a  trifle  less  sunny  than  it  had  been  before.  And 
it  was  a  relief  to  me  when  he  came  with  few  pre- 
liminaries to  the  inevitable  point. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  from  her,  Bunny?"  he 
asked. 

"In  a  way,"  I  answered.  "We  won't  talk  about 
it,  if  you  don't  mind,  Raffles." 

"That  sort  of  way !"  he  exclaimed.  He  seemed 
both  surprised  and  disappointed. 

30 


Out  of  Paradise 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "that  sort  of  way.  It's  finished. 
What  did  you  expect?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Raffles.  "I  only  thought 
that  the  girl  who  went  so  far  to  get  a  fellow  out 
of  a  tight  place  might  go  a  little  farther  to  keep 
him  from  getting  into  another." 

"I  don't  see  why  she  should,"  said  I,  honestly 
enough,  yet  with  the  irritation  of  a  less  just  feeling 
deep  down  in  my  inmost  consciousness. 

"Yet  you  did  hear  from  her?"  he  persisted. 

"She  sent  me  back  my  poor  presents,  without  a 
word,"  I  said,  "if  you  call  that  hearing." 

I  could  not  bring  myself  to  own  to  Raffles  that 
I  had  given  her  only  books.  He  asked  if  I  was 
sure  that  she  had  sent  them  back  herself;  and  that 
was  his  last  question.  My  answer  was  enough  for 
him.  And  to  this  day  I  cannot  say  whether  it  was 
more  in  relief  than  in  regret  that  he  laid  a  hand 
upon  my  shoulder. 

"So  you  are  out  of  Paradise  after  all!"  said 
Raffles.  "I  was  not  sure,  or  I  should  have  come 
round  before.  Well,  Bunny,  if  they  don't  want 
you  there,  there's  a  little  Inferno  in  the  Albany 
where  you  will  be  as  welcome  as  ever!" 

And  still,  with  all  the  magic  mischief  of  his 
smile,  there  was  that  touch  of  sadness  which  I  was 
yet  to  read  aright. 

3i 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

LIKE  all  the  tribe  of  which  I  held  him  head, 
Raffles  professed  the  liveliest  disdain  for 
unwieldy  plunder  of  any  description;  it  might  be 
old  Sheffield,  or  it  might  be  solid  silver  or  gold, 
but  if  the  thing  was  not  to  be  concealed  about  the 
person,  he  would  none  whatever  of  it.  Unlike 
the  rest  of  us,  however,  in  this  as  in  all  else,  Raffles 
would  not  infrequently  allow  the  acquisitive  spirit 
of  the  mere  collector  to  silence  the  dictates  of  pro- 
fessional prudence.  The  old  oak  chests,  and  even 
the  mahogany  wine-cooler,  for  which  he  had 
doubtless  paid  like  an  honest  citizen,  were  thus 
immovable  with  pieces  of  crested  plate,  which  he 
had  neither  the  temerity  to  use  nor  the  hardihood 
to  melt  or  sell.  He  could  but  gloat  over  them 
behind  locked  doors,  as  I  used  to  tell  him,  and  at 
last  one  afternoon  I  caught  him  at  it.  It  was  in 
the  year  after  that  of  my  novitiate,  a  halcyon 
period  at  the  Albany,  when  Raffles  left  no  crib 
uncracked,  and  I  played  second-murderer  every 
time.  I  had  called  in  response  to  a  telegram  in 
which  he  stated  that  he  was  going  out  of  town, 

32 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

and  must  say  good-by  to  me  before  he  went.  And 
I  could  only  think  that  he  was  inspired  by  the 
same  impulse  toward  the  bronzed  salvers  and  the 
tarnished  teapots  with  which  I  found  him  sur- 
rounded, until  my  eyes  lit  upon  the  enormous  sil- 
ver-chest into  which  he  was  fitting  them  one  by 
one. 

"Allow  me,  Bunny!  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of 
locking  both  doors  behind  you  and  putting  the  key 
in  my  pocket,"  said  Raffles,  when  he  had  let  me  in. 
"Not  that  I  mean  to  take  you  prisoner,  my  dear 
fellow;  but  there  are  those  of  us  who  can  turn 
keys  from  the  outside,  though  it  was  never  an 
accomplishment  of  mine." 

"Not  Crawshay  again?"  I  cried,  standing  still 
in  my  hat. 

Raffles  regarded  me  with  that  tantalizing  smile 
of  his  which  might  mean  nothing,  yet  which  often 
meant  so  much ;  and  in  a  flash  I  was  convinced  that 
our  most  jealous  enemy  and  dangerous  rival,  the 
doyen  of  an  older  school,  had  paid  him  yet  an- 
other visit. 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  was  the  measured 
reply;  "and  I  for  one  have  not  set  naked  eye  on 
the  fellow  since  I  saw  him  off  through  that  window 
and  left  myself  for  dead  on  this  very  spot.  In 
fact,  I  imagined  him  comfortably  back  in  jail." 

33 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Not  old  Crawshay!"  said  I.  "He's  far  too 
good  a  man  to  be  taken  twice.  I  should  call  h'm 
the  very  prince  of  professional  cracksmen." 

"Should  you?"  said  Raffles  coldly,  with  as  cold 
an  eye  looking  into  mine.  "Then  you  had  better 
prepare  to  repel  princes  when  I'm  gone." 

"But  gone  where?"  I  asked,  finding  a  corner 
for  my  hat  and  coat,  and  helping  myself  to  the 
comforts  of  the  venerable  dresser  which  was  one 
of  our  friend's  greatest  treasures.  "Where  is  it 
you  are  off  to,  and  why  are  you  taking  this  herd  of 
white  elephants  with  you?" 

Raffles  bestowed  the  cachet  of  his  smile  on  my 
description  of  his  motley  plate.  He  joined  me  in 
one  of  his  favorite  cigarettes,  only  shaking  a  supe- 
rior head  at  his  own  decanter. 

"One  question  at  a  time,  Bunny,"  said  he.  "In 
the  first  place,  I  am  going  to  have  these  rooms 
freshened  up  with  a  potful  of  paint,  the  electric 
light,  and  the  telephone  you've  been  at  me  about 
so  long." 

"Good!"  I  cried.  "Then  we  shall  be  able  to 
talk  to  each  other  day  and  night!" 

"And  get  overheard  and  run  in  for  our  pains? 
I  shall  wait  till  you  are  run  in,  I  think,"  said  Raf- 
fles cruelly.  "But  the  rest's  a  necessity:  not  that  I 
love  new  paint  or  am  pining  for  electric  light,  but 

34 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

for  reasons  which  I  will  just  breathe  in  your  pri- 
vate ear,  Bunny.  You  must  not  try  to  take  them 
too  seriously;  but  the  fact  is,  there  is  just  the  least 
bit  of  a  twitter  against  me  in  this  rookery  of  an 
Albany.  It  must  have  been  started  by  that  tame 
old  bird,  Policeman  Mackenzie;  it  isn't  very  bad 
as  yet,  but  it  needn't  be  that  to  reach  my  ears. 
Well,  it  was  open  to  me  either  to  clear  out  alto- 
gether, and  so  confirm  whatever  happened  to  be 
in  the  air,  or  to  go  off  for  a  time,  under  some 
arrangement  which  would  give  the  authorities 
ample  excuse  for  overhauling  every  inch  of  my 
rooms.     Which  would  you  have  done,  Bunny?" 

"Cleared  out,  while  I  could!"  said  I  devoutly. 

"So  I  should  have  thought,"  rejoined  Raffles. 
"Yet  you  see  the  merit  of  my  plan.  I  shall  leave 
every  mortal  thing  unlocked." 

"Except  that,"  said  I,  kicking  the  huge  oak  case 
with  the  iron  bands  and  clamps,  and  the  baize 
lining  fast  disappearing  under  heavy  packages 
bearing  the  shapes  of  urns  and  candelabra. 

"That,"  replied  Raffles,  "is  neither  to  go  with 
me  nor  to  remain  here." 

"Then  what  do  you  propose  to  do  with  it?" 

"You  have  your  banking  account,  and  your 
banker,"  he  went  on.  This  was  perfectly  true, 
though  it  was  Raffles  alone  who  had  kept  the  one 

35 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

open,  and  enabled  me  to  propitiate  the  other  in 
moments  of  emergency. 

"Well?" 

"Well,  pay  in  this  bundle  of  notes  this  after- 
noon, and  say  you  have  had  a  great  week  at  Liver- 
pool and  Lincoln;  then  ask  them  if  they  can  do 
with  your  silver  while  you  run  over  to  Paris  for  a 
merry  Easter.  I  should  tell  them  it's  rather  heavy 
— a  lot  of  old  family  stuff  that  you've  a  good  mind 
to  leave  with  them  till  you  marry  and  settle  down." 

I  winced  at  this,  but  consented  to  the  rest  after 
a  moment's  consideration.  After  all,  and  for  more 
reasons  that  I  need  enumerate,  it  was  a  plausible 
tale  enough.  And  Raffles  had  no  banker;  it  was 
quite  impossible  for  him  to  explain,  across  any 
single  counter,  the  large  sums  of  hard  cash  which 
did  sometimes  fall  into  his  hands;  and  it  might 
well  be  that  he  had  nursed  my  small  account  in 
view  of  the  very  quandary  which  had  now  arisen. 
On  all  grounds,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  refuse 
him,  and  I  am  still  glad  to  remember  that  my  as- 
sent was  given,  on  the  whole,  ungrudgingly. 

"But  when  will  the  chest  be  ready  for  me?" 
I  merely  asked,  as  I  stuffed  the  notes  into  my 
cigarette  case.  "And  how  are  we  to  get  it  out  of 
this,  in  banking  hours,  without  attracting  any 
amount  of  attention  at  this  end?" 

36 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

Raffles  gave  me  an  approving  nod. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  spot  the  crux  so  quickly, 
Bunny.  I  have  thought  of  your  taking  it  round 
to  your  place  first,  under  cloud  of  night;  but  we 
are  bound  to  be  seen  even  so,  and  on  the  whole  it 
would  look  far  less  suspicious  in  broad  daylight. 
It  will  take  you  some  twelve  or  fifteen  minutes  to 
drive  to  your  bank  in  a  growler,  so  if  you  are  here 
with  one  at  a  quarter  to  ten  to-morrow  morning, 
that  will  exactly  meet  the  case.  But  you  must 
have  a  hansom  this  minute  if  you  mean  to  prepare 
the  way  with  those  notes  this  afternoon!" 

It  was  only  too  like  the  Raffles  of  those  days  to 
dismiss  a  subject  and  myself  in  the  same  breath, 
with  a  sudden  nod,  and  a  brief  grasp  of  the  hand 
he  was  already  holding  out  for  mine.  I  had  a 
great  mind  to  take  another  of  his  cigarettes  instead, 
for  there  were  one  or  two  points  on  which  he  had 
carefully  omitted  to  enlighten  me.  Thus,  I  had 
still  to  learn  the  bare  direction  of  his  journey;  and 
it  was  all  that  I  could  do  to  drag  it  from  him  as  I 
stood  buttoning  my  coat  and  gloves. 

"Scotland,"  he  vouchsafed  at  last. 

"At  Easter,"  I  remarked. 

"To  learn  the  language,"  he  explained.  "I 
have  no  tongue  but  my  own,  you  see,  but  I  try  to 
make  up  for  it  by  cultivating  every  shade  of  that. 

37 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

Some  of  them  have  come  in  useful  even  to  your 
knowledge,  Bunny :  what  price  my  Cockney  that 
night  in  St.  John's  Wood?  I  can  keep  up  my  end 
in  stage  Irish,  real  Devonshire,  very  fair  Norfolk, 
and  three  distinct  Yorkshire  dialects.  But  my 
good  Galloway  Scots  might  be  better,  and  I  mean 
to  make  it  so." 

'You  still  haven't  told  me  where  to  write  to 
you." 

"I'll  write  to  you  first,  Bunny." 
"At  least  let  me  see  you  off,"  I  urged  at  the 
door.     "I  promise  not  to  look  at  your  ticket  if  you 
tell  me  the  train!" 

"The  eleven-fifty  from  Euston." 
"Then  I'll  be  with  you  by  quarter  to  ten." 
And  I  left  him  without  further  parley,  reading 
his  impatience  in  his  face.  Everything,  to  be  sure, 
seemed  clear  enough  without  that  fuller  discussion 
which  I  loved  and  Raffles  hated.  Yet  I  thought 
we  might  at  least  have  dined  together,  and  in  my 
heart  I  felt  just  the  least  bit  hurt,  until  it  occurred 
to  me  as  I  drove  to  count  the  notes  in  my  cigarette 
case.  Resentment  was  impossible  after  that.  The 
sum  ran  well  into  three  figures,  and  it  was  plain 
that  Raffles  meant  me  to  have  a  good  time  in  his 
absence.  So  I  told  his  lie  with  unction  at  my  bank, 
and  made  due  arrangements  for  the  reception  of 

38 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

his  chest  next  morning.  Then  I  repaired  to  our 
club,  hoping  he  would  drop  in,  and  that  we  might 
dine  together  after  all.  In  that  I  was  disap- 
pointed. It  was  nothing,  however,  to  the  dis- 
appointment awaiting  me  at  the  Albany,  when  I 
arrived  in  my  four-wheeler  at  the  appointed  hour 
next  morning. 

"Mr.  Raffles  'as  gawn,  sir,"  said  the  porter, 
with  a  note  of  reproach  in  his  confidential  under- 
tone. The  man  was  a  favorite  with  Raffles,  who 
used  him  and  tipped  him  with  consummate  tact, 
and  he  knew  me  only  less  well. 

"Gone  !"  I  echoed  aghast.  "Where  on  earth  to?" 

"Scotland,  sir." 

"Already?" 

"By  the  eleven-fifty  lawst  night." 

"Last  night!  I  thought  he  meant  eleven-fifty 
this  morning!" 

"He  knew  you  did,  sir,  when  you  never  came, 
and  he  told  me  to  tell  you  there  was  no  such  train." 

I  could  have  rent  my  garments  in  mortification 
and  annoyance  with  myself  and  Raffles.  It  was  as 
much  his  fault  as  mine.  But  for  his  indecent 
haste  in  getting  rid  of  me,  his  characteristic  abrupt- 
ness at  the  end,  there  would  have  been  no  misun- 
derstanding or  mistake. 

"Any  other  message?"  I  inquired  morosely. 

39 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Only  about  the  box,  sir.  Mr.  Raffles  said  as 
you  was  goin'  to  take  chawge  of  it  time  he's  away, 
and  I've  a  friend  ready  to  lend  a  'and  in  getting 
it  on  the  cab.  It's  a  rare  'eavy  'un,  but  Mr.  Raf- 
fles an'  me  could  lift  it  all  right  between  us,  so  I 
dessay  me  an'  my  friend  can." 

For  my  own  part,  I  must  confess  that  its  weight 
concerned  me  less  than  the  vast  size  of  that  infernal 
chest,  as  I  drove  with  it  past  club  and  park  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Sit  as  far  back  as  I  might 
in  the  four-wheeler,  I  could  conceal  neither  myself 
nor  my  connection  with  the  huge  iron-clamped  case 
upon  the  roof:  in  my  heated  imagination  its  wood 
was  glass  through  which  all  the  world  could  see 
the  guilty  contents.  Once  an  officious  constable 
held  up  the  traffic  at  our  approach,  and  for  a 
moment  I  put  a  blood-curdling  construction  upon 
the  simple  ceremony.  Low  boys  shouted  after  us 
— or  if  it  was  not  after  us,  I  thought  it  was — and 
that  their  cry  was  "Stop  thief!"  Enough  said  of 
one  of  the  most  unpleasant  cab-drives  I  ever  had  in 
my  life.     Horresco  refer  ens. 

At  the  bank,  however,  thanks  to  the  foresight 
and  liberality  of  Raffles,  all  was  smooth  water. 
I  paid  my  cabman  handsomely,  gave  a  florin  to 
the  stout  fellow  in  livery  whom  he  helped  with 
the  chest,  and  could  have  pressed  gold  upon  the 

40 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

genial  clerk  who  laughed  like  a  gentleman  at  my 
jokes  about  the  Liverpool  winners  and  the  latest 
betting  on  the  Family  Plate.  I  was  only  discon- 
certed when  he  informed  me  that  the  bank  gave 
no  receipts  for  deposits  of  this  nature.  I  am  now 
aware  that  few  London  banks  do.  But  it  is  pleas- 
ing to  believe  that  at  the  time  I  looked — what  I 
felt — as  though  all  I  valued  upon  earth  were  in 
jeopardy. 

I  should  have  got  through  the  rest  of  that  day 
happily  enough,  such  was  the  load  off  my  mind  and 
hands,  but  for  an  extraordinary  and  most  discon- 
certing note  received  late  at  night  from  Raffles 
himself.  He  was  a  man  who  telegraphed  freely, 
but  seldom  wrote  a  letter.  Sometimes,  however, 
he  sent  a  scribbled  line  by  special  messenger;  and 
overnight,  evidently  in  the  train,  he  had  scribbled 
this  one  to  post  in  the  small  hours  at  Crewe : 


<<  ji 


'Ware  Prince  of  Professors!  He  was  in  the  offing 
when  I  left.  If  slightest  cause  for  uneasiness  about  bank, 
withdraw  at  once  and  keep  in  own  rooms  like  good  chap. 

"  A.  J.  R. 
"  -P.  S. — Other  reasons,  as  you  shall  hear." 

There  was  a  nice  nightcap  for  a  puzzled  head ! 
I  had  made  rather  an  evening  of  it,  what  with 
increase  of  funds  and  decrease  of  anxiety,  but  this 

4i 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

cryptic  admonition  spoiled  the  remainder  of  my 
night.  It  had  arrived  by  a  late  post,  and  I  only 
wished  that  I  had  left  it  all  night  in  my  letter-box. 

What  exactly  did  it  mean?  And  what  exactly 
must  I  do?  These  were  questions  that  confronted 
me  with  fresh  force  in  the  morning. 

The  news  of  Crawshay  did  not  surprise  me.  I 
was  quite  sure  that  Raffles  had  been  given  good 
reason  to  bear  him  in  mind  before  his  journey, 
even  if  he  had  not  again  beheld  the  ruffian  in  the 
flesh.  That  ruffian  and  that  journey  might  be 
more  intimately  connected  than  I  had  yet  supposed. 
Raffles  never  told  me  all.  Yet  the  solid  fact  held 
good — held  better  than  ever — that  I  had  seen  his 
plunder  safely  planted  in  my  bank.  Crawshay 
himself  could  not  follow  it  there.  I  was  certain 
he  had  not  followed  my  cab :  in  the  acute  self- 
consciousness  induced  by  that  abominable  drive,  I 
should  have  known  it  in  my  bones  if  he  had.  I 
thought  of  the  porter's  friend  who  had  helped  me 
with  the  chest.  No,  I  remember  him  as  well  as 
I  remembered  Crawshay;  they  were  quite  different 
types. 

To  remove  that  vile  box  from  the  bank,  on  top 
of  another  cab,  with  no  stronger  pretext  and  no 
further  instructions,  was  not  to  be  thought  of  for 
a  moment.     Yet  I  did  think  of  it,  for  hours.     I 

42 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

was  always  anxious  to  do  my  part  by  Raffles;  he 
had  done  more  than  his  by  me,  not  once  or  twice, 
to-day  or  yesterday,  but  again  and  again  from  the 
very  first.  I  need  not  state  the  obvious  reasons 
I  had  for  fighting  shy  of  the  personal  custody  of 
his  accursed  chest.  Yet  he  had  run  worse  risks 
for  me,  and  I  wanted  him  to  learn  that  he,  too, 
could  depend  on  a  devotion  not  unworthy  of  his 
own. 

In  my  dilemma  I  did  what  I  have  often  done 
when  at  a  loss  for  light  and  leading.  I  took  hardly 
any  lunch,  but  went  to  Northumberland  Avenue 
and  had  a  Turkish  bath  instead.  I  know  nothing 
so  cleansing  to  mind  as  well  as  body,  nothing  bet- 
ter calculated  to  put  the  finest  possible  edge  on 
such  judgment  as  one  may  happen  to  possess.  Even 
Raffles,  without  an  ounce  to  lose  or  a  nerve  to 
soothe,  used  to  own  a  sensuous  appreciation  of  the 
peace  of  mind  and  person  to  be  gained  in  this 
fashion  when  all  others  failed.  For  me,  the  fun 
began  before  the  boots  were  off  one's  feet;  the 
muffled  footfalls,  the  thin  sound  of  the  fountain, 
even  the  spent  swathed  forms  upon  the  couches, 
and  the  whole  clean,  warm,  idle  atmosphere,  were 
so  much  unction  to  my  simpler  soul.  The  half- 
hour  in  the  hot-rooms  I  used  to  count  but  a  strenu- 
ous step  to  a  divine  lassitude  of  limb  and  accom- 

43 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

panying  exaltation  of  intellect.  And  yet — and 
yet — it  was  in  the  hottest  room  of  all,  in  a  tempera- 
ture of  2700  Fahrenheit,  that  the  bolt  fell  from 
the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  which  I  had  bought  outside 
the  bath. 

I  was  turning  over  the  hot,  crisp  pages,  and 
positively  revelling  in  my  fiery  furnace,  when  the 
following  headlines  and  leaded  paragraphs  leapt 
to  my  eye  with  the  force  of  a  veritable  blow : 

BANK    ROBBERS    IN    THE    WEST    END- 
DARING  AND  MYSTERIOUS   CRIME 

An  audacious  burglary  and  dastardly  assault  have  been 
committed  on  the  premises  of  the  City  and  Suburban  Bank 
in  Sloane  Street,  W.  From  the  details  so  far  to  hand, 
the  robbery  appears  to  have  been  deliberately  planned  and 
adroitly  executed  in  the  early  hours  of  this  morning. 

A  night  watchman  named  Fawcett  states  that  between 
one  and  two  o'clock  "he  heard  a  slight  noise  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  lower  strong-room,  used  as  a  repository 
for  the  plate  and  other  possessions  of  various  customers 
of  the  bank.  Going  down  to  investigate,  he  was  instantly 
attacked  by  a  powerful  ruffian,  who  succeeded  in  felling 
him  to  the  ground  before  an  alarm  could  be  raised. 

Fawcett  is  unable  to  furnish  any  description  of  his  as- 
sailant or  assailants,  but  is  of  opinion  that  more  than  one 
were  engaged  in  the  commission  of  the  crime.  When 
the  unfortunate  man  recovered  consciousness,  no  trace  of 
the  thieves  remained,  with  the  exception  of  a  single  candle 

44 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

which  had  been  left  burning  on  the  flags  of  the  corridor. 
The  strong-room,  however,  had  been  opened,  and  it  is 
feared  the  raid  on  the  chests  of  plate  and  other  valuables 
may  prove  to  have  been  only  too  successful,  in  view  of 
the  Easter  exodus,  which  the  thieves  had  evidently  taken 
into  account.  The  ordinary  banking  chambers  were  not 
even  visited ;  entry  and  exit  are  believed  to  have  been 
effected  through  the  coal  cellar,  which  is  also  situated  in 
the  basement.  Up  to  the  present  the  police  have  effected 
no  arrest. 

I  sat  practically  paralyzed  by  this  appalling 
news;  and  I  swear  that,  even  in  that  incredible 
temperature,  it  was  a  cold  perspiration  in  which  I 
sweltered  from  head  to  heel.  Crawshay,  of 
course !  Crawshay  once  more  upon  the  track  of 
Raffles  and  his  ill-gotten  gains !  And  once  more 
I  blamed  Raffles  himself:  his  warning  had  come 
too  late:  he  should  have  wired  to  me  at  once  not 
to  take  the  box  to  the  bank  at  all.  He  was  a  mad- 
man ever  to  have  invested  in  so  obvious  and  obtru- 
sive a  receptacle  for  treasure.  It  would  serve  Raf- 
fles right  if  that  and  no  other  was  the  box  which 
had  been  broken  into  by  the  thieves. 

Yet,  when  I  considered  the  character  of  his 
treasure,  I  fairly  shuddered  in  my  sweat.  It  was 
a  hoard  of  criminal  relics.  Suppose  his  chest  had 
indeed  been  rifled,  and  emptied  of  every  silver 
thing  but  one;  that  one  remaining  piece  of  silver, 

45 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

seen  of  men,  was  quite  enough  to  cast  Raffles  into 
the  outer  darkness  of  penal  servitude  !  And  Craw- 
shay  was  capable  of  it — of  perceiving  the  insidious 
revenge — of  taking  it  without  compunction  or 
remorse. 

There  was  only  one  course  for  me.  I  must  fol- 
low my  instructions  to  the  letter  and  recover  the 
chest  at  all  hazards,  or  be  taken  myself  in  the 
attempt.  If  only  Raffles  had  left  me  some  address, 
to  which  I  could  have  wired  some  word  of  warn- 
ing! But  it  was  no  use  thinking  of  that;  for  the 
rest  there  was  time  enough  up  to  four  o'clock,  and 
as  yet  it  was  not  three.  I  determined  to  go  through 
with  my  bath  and  make  the  most  of  it.  Might  it 
not  be  my  last  for  years? 

But  I  was  past  enjoying  even  a  Turkish  bath. 
I  had  not  the  patience  for  a  proper  shampoo,  or 
sufficient  spirit  for  the  plunge.  I  weighed  myself 
automatically,  for  that  was  a  matter  near  my 
heart;  but  I  forgot  to  give  my  man  his  sixpence 
until  the  reproachful  intonation  of  his  adieu  re- 
called me  to  myself.  And  my  couch  in  the  cooling 
gallery — my  favorite  couch,  in  my  favorite  corner, 
which  I  had  secured  with  gusto  on  coming  in — it 
was  a  bed  of  thorns,  with  hideous  visions  of  a 
plank-bed  to  follow ! 

I  ought  to  be  able  to  add  that  I  heard  the  burg- 

46 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

lary  discussed  on  adjacent  couches  before  I  left. 
I  certainly  listened  for  it,  and  was  rather  disap- 
pointed more  than  once  when  I  had  held  my 
breath  in  vain.  But  this  is  the  unvarnished  record 
of  an  odious  hour,  and  it  passed  without  further 
aggravation  from  without;  only,  as  I  drove  to 
Sloane  Street,  the  news  was  on  all  the  posters,  and 
on  one  I  read  of  "a  clew"  which  spelt  for  me  a 
doom  I  was  grimly  resolved  to  share. 

Already  there  was  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
"run"  upon  the  Sloane  Street  branch  of  the  City 
and  Suburban.  A  cab  drove  away  with  a  chest  of 
reasonable  dimensions  as  mine  drove  up,  while  in 
the  bank  itself  a  lady  was  making  a  painful  scene. 
As  for  the  genial  clerk  who  had  roared  at  my 
jokes  the  day  before,  he  was  mercifully  in  no  mood 
for  any  more,  but,  on  the  contrary,  quite  rude  to 
me  at  sight. 

"I've  been  expecting  you  all  the  afternoon," 
said  he.     "You  needn't  look  so  pale." 

"Is  it  safe?" 

"That  Noah's  Ark  of  yours?  Yes,  so  I  hear; 
they'd  just  got  to  it  when  they  were  interrupted, 
and  they  never  went  back  again." 

"Then  it  wasn't  even  opened?" 

"Only  just  begun  on,  I  believe." 

"Thank  God!" 

47 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"You  may;  we  don't,"  growled  the  clerk.  "The 
manager  says  he  believes  your  chest  was  at  the 
bottom  of  it  all." 

"How  could  it  be?"  I  asked  uneasily. 

"By  being  seen  on  the  cab  a  mile  off,  and  fol- 
lowed," said  the  clerk. 

"Does  the  manager  want  to  see  me?"  I  asked 
boldly. 

"Not  unless  you  want  to  see  him,"  was  the  blunt 
reply.  "He's  been  at  it  with  others  all  the  after- 
noon, and  they  haven't  all  got  off  as  cheap  as  you." 

"Then  my  silver  shall  not  embarrass  you  any 
longer,"  said  I  grandly.  "I  meant  to  leave  it  if  it 
was  all  right,  but  after  all  you  have  said  I  certainly 
shall  not.  Let  your  man  or  men  bring  up  the  chest 
at  once.  I  dare  say  they  also  have  been  'at  it  with 
others  all  the  afternoon,'  but  I  shall  make  this 
worth  their  while." 

I  did  not  mind  driving  through  the  streets  with 
the  thing  this  time.  My  present  relief  was  too 
overwhelming  as  yet  to  admit  of  pangs  and  fears 
for  the  immediate  future.  No  summer  sun  had 
ever  shone  more  brightly  than  that  rather  watery 
one  of  early  April.  There  was  a  green-and-gold 
dust  of  buds  and  shoots  on  the  trees  as  we  passed 
the  park.  I  felt  greater  things  sprouting  in  my 
heart.    Hansoms  passed  with  schoolboys  just  home 

48 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

for  the  Easter  holidays,  four-wheelers  outward 
bound,  with  bicycles  and  perambulators  atop ;  none 
that  rode  in  them  were  half  so  happy  as  I,  with 
the  great  load  on  my  cab,  but  the  greater  one  off 
my  heart. 

At  Mount  Street  it  just  went  into  the  lift;  that 
was  a  stroke  of  luck;  and  the  lift-man  and  I  be- 
tween us  carried  it  into  my  flat.  It  seemed  a 
featherweight  to  me  now.  I  felt  a  Samson  in  the 
exaltation  of  that  hour.  And  I  will  not  say  what 
my  first  act  was  when  I  found  myself  alone  with 
my  white  elephant  in  the  middle  of  the  room; 
enough  that  the  siphon  was  still  doing  its  work 
when  the  glass  slipped  through  my  fingers  to  the 
floor. 

"Bunny!" 

It  was  Raffles.  Yet  for  a  moment  I  looked 
about  me  quite  in  vain.  He  was  not  at  the  win- 
dow ;  he  was  not  at  the  open  door.  And  yet  Raf- 
fles it  had  been,  or  at  all  events  his  voice,  and  that 
bubbling  over  with  fun  and  satisfaction,  be  his 
body  where  it  might.  In  the  end  I  dropped  my 
eyes,  and  there  was  his  living  face  in  the  middle  of 
the  lid  of  the  chest,  like  that  of  the  saint  upon  its 
charger. 

But  Raffles  was  alive,  Raffles  was  laughing  as 
though  his   vocal   cords  would  snap — there  was 

49 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

neither  tragedy  nor  illusion  in  the  apparition  of 
Raffles.  A  life-size  Jack-in-the-box,  he  had  thrust 
his  head  through  a  lid  within  the  lid,  cut  by 
himself  between  the  two  iron  bands  that  ran  round 
the  chest  like  the  straps  of  a  portmanteau.  He 
must  have  been  busy  at  it  when  I  found  him  pre- 
tending to  pack,  if  not  far  into  that  night,  for  it 
was  a  very  perfect  piece  of  work;  and  even  as  I 
stared  without  a  word,  and  he  crouched  laughing 
in  my  face,  an  arm  came  squeezing  out,  keys  in 
hand;  one  was  turned  in  either  of  the  two  great 
padlocks,  the  whole  lid  lifted,  and  out  stepped 
Raffles  like  the  conjurer  he  was. 

"So  you  were  the  burglar!"  I  exclaimed  at  last. 
"Well,  I  am  just  as  glad  I  didn't  know." 

He  had  wrung  my  hand  already,  but  at  this  he 
fairly  mangled  it  in  his. 

"You  dear  little  brick,"  he  cried,  "that's  the  one 
thing  of  all  things  I  longed  to  hear  you  say !  How 
could  you  have  behaved  as  you've  done  if  you  had 
known  ?  How  could  any  living  man  ?  How  could 
you  have  acted,  as  the  polar  star  of  all  the  stages 
could  not  have  acted  in  your  place?  Remember 
that  I  have  heard  a  lot,  and  as  good  as  seen  as  much 
as  I've  heard.  Bunny,  I  don't  know  where  you 
were  greatest:  at  the  Albany,  here,  or  at  your 
bank!" 

5o 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

"I  don't  know  where  I  was  most  miserable,"  I 
rejoined,  beginning  to  see  the  matter  in  a  less  per- 
fervid  light.  "I  know  you  don't  credit  me  with 
much  finesse,  but  I  would  undertake  to  be  in  the 
secret  and  to  do  quite  as  well;  the  only  difference 
would  be  in  my  own  peace  of  mind,  which,  of 
course,  doesn't  count." 

But  Raffles  wagged  away  with  his  most  charm- 
ing and  disarming  smile;  he  was  in  old  clothes, 
rather  tattered  and  torn,  and  more  than  a  little 
grimy  as  to  the  face  and  hands,  but,  on  the  surface, 
wonderfully  little  the  worse  for  his  experience. 
And,  as  I  say,  his  smile  was  the  smile  of  the  Raffles 
I  loved  best. 

"You  would  have  done  your  damnedest,  Bunny  ! 
There  is  no  limit  to  your  heroism;  but  you  forget 
the  human  equation  in  the  pluckiest  of  the  plucky. 
I  couldn't  afford  to  forget  it,  Bunny;  I  couldn't 
afford  to  give  a  point  away.  Don't  talk  as  though 
I  hadn't  trusted  you!  I  trusted  my  very  life  to 
your  loyal  tenacity.  What  do  you  suppose  would 
have  happened  to  me  if  you  had  let  me  rip  in  that 
strong-room?  Do  you  think  I  would  ever  have 
crept  out  and  given  myself  up?  Yes,  I'll  have 
a  peg  for  once;  the  beauty  of  all  laws  is  in  the 
breaking,  even  of  the  kind  we  make  unto  our- 
selves." 

5i 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

I  had  a  Sullivan  for  him,  too;  and  in  another 
minute  he  was  spread  out  on  my  sofa,  stretching  his 
cramped  limbs  with  infinite  gusto,  a  cigarette  be- 
tween his  fingers,  a  yellow  bumper  at  hand  on  the 
chest  of  his  triumph  and  my  tribulation. 

"Never  mind  when  it  occurred  to  me,  Bunny; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  only  the  other  day,  when 
I  had  decided  to  go  away  for  the  real  reasons  I 
have  already  given  you.  I  may  have  made  more 
of  them  to  you  than  I  do  in  my  own  mind,  but  at 
all  events  they  exist.  And  I  really  did  want  the 
telephone  and  the  electric  light." 

"But  where  did  you  stow  the  silver  before  you 
went?" 

"Nowhere;  it  was  my  luggage — a  portmanteau, 
cricket-bag,  and  suit-case  full  of  very  little  else — 
and  by  the  same  token  I  left  the  lot  at  Euston,  and 
one  of  us  must  fetch  them  this  evening." 

"I  can  do  that,"  said  I.  "But  did  you  really  go 
all  the  way  to  Crewe?" 

"Didn't  you  get  my  note?  I  went  all  the  way 
to  Crewe  to  post  you  those  few  lines,  my  dear 
Bunny!  It's  no  use  taking  trouble  if  you  don't 
take  trouble  enough;  I  wanted  you  to  show  the 
proper  set  of  faces  at  the  bank  and  elsewhere,  and 
I  know  you  did.  Besides,  there  was  an  up-train 
four  minutes  after  mine  got  in.     I  simply  posted 

52 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

my  letter  in  Crewe  station,  and  changed  from  one 
train  to  the  other." 

"At  two  in  the  morning!" 

"Nearer  three,  Bunny.  It  was  after  seven  when 
I  slung  in  with  the  Daily  Mail.  The  milk  had 
beaten  me  by  a  short  can.  But  even  so  I  had  two 
very  good  hours  before  you  were  due." 

"And  to  think,"  I  murmured,  "how  you  de- 
ceived me  there !" 

"With  your  own  assistance,"  said  Raffles  laugh- 
ing. "If  you  had  looked  it  up  you  would  have 
seen  there  was  no  such  train  in  the  morning,  and 
I  never  said  there  was.  But  I  meant  you  to  be 
deceived,  Bunny,  and  I  won't  say  I  didn't — it  was 
all  for  the  sake  of  the  side!  Well,  when  you 
carted  me  away  with  such  laudable  despatch,  I  had 
rather  an  uncomfortable  half-hour,  but  that  was 
all  just  then.  I  had  my  candle,  I  had  matches,  and 
lots  to  read.  It  was  quite  nice  in  that  strong-room 
until  a  very  unpleasant  incident  occurred." 

"Do  tell  me,  my  dear  fellow!" 

"I  must  have  another  Sullivan — thank  you — 
and  a  match.  The  unpleasant  incident  was  steps 
outside  and  a  key  in  the  lock!  I  was  disporting 
myself  on  the  lid  of  the  trunk  at  the  time.  I  had 
barely  time  to  knock  out  my  light  and  slip  down 
behind  it.     Luckily  it  was  only  another  box  of 

53 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

sorts;  a  jewel-case,  to  be  more  precise;  you  shall 
see  the  contents  in  a  moment.  The  Easter  exodus 
has  done  me  even  better  than  I  dared  to  hope." 

His  words  reminded  me  of  the  Pall  Mall 
Gazette,  which  I  had  brought  in  my  pocket  from 
the  Turkish  bath.  I  fished  it  out,  all  wrinkled  and 
bloated  by  the  heat  of  the  hottest  room,  and 
handed  it  to  Raffles  with  my  thumb  upon  the 
leaded  paragraphs. 

"Delightful !"  said  he  when  he  had  read  them. 
"More  thieves  than  one,  and  the  coal-cellar  of  all 
places  as  a  way  in !  I  certainly  tried  to  give  it 
that  appearance.  I  left  enough  candle-grease 
there  to  make  those  coals  burn  bravely.  But  it 
looked  up  into  a  blind  backyard,  Bunny,  and  a 
boy  of  eight  couldn't  have  squeezed  through  the 
trap.  Long  may  that  theory  keep  them  happy  at 
Scotland  Yard!" 

"But  what  about  the  fellow  you  knocked  out?" 
I  asked.     "That  was  not  like  you,  Raffles." 

Raffles  blew  pensive  rings  as  he  lay  back  on  my 
sofa,  his  black  hair  tumbled  on  the  cushion,  his  pale 
profile  as  clear  and  sharp  against  the  light  as 
though  slashed  out  with  the  scissors. 

"I  know  it  wasn't,  Bunny,"  he  said  regretfully. 
"But  things  like  that,  as  the  poet  will  tell  you,  are 
really  inseparable   from  victories  like  mine.      It 

54 


Raffles  in  the  strong-room. 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

had  taken  me  a  couple  of  hours  to  break  out  of 
that  strong-room;  I  was  devoting  a  third  to  the 
harmless  task  of  simulating  the  appearance  of 
having  broken  in;  and  it  was  then  I  heard  the 
fellow's  stealthy  step.  Some  might  have  stood 
their  ground  and  killed  him;  more  would  have 
bolted  into  a  worse  corner  than  they  were  in 
already  I  left  my  candle  where  it  was,  crept  to 
meet  the  poor  devil,  flattened  myself  against  the 
wall,  and  let  him  have  it  as  he  passed.  I  ac- 
knowledge the  foul  blow,  but  here's  evidence  that 
it  was  mercifully  struck.  The  victim  has  already 
told  his  tale." 

As  he  drained  his  glass,  but  shook  his  head 
when  I  wished  to  replenish  it,  Raffles  showed  me 
the  flask  which  he  had  carried  in  his  pocket :  it  was 
still  nearly  full;  and  I  found  that  he  had  otherwise 
provisioned  himself  over  the  holidays.  On  either 
Easter  Day  or  Bank  Holiday,  had  I  failed  him, 
it  had  been  his  intention  to  make  the  best  escape 
he  could.  But  the  risk  must  have  been  enormous, 
and  it  filled  my  glowing  skin  to  think  that  he  had 
not  relied  on  me  in  vain. 

As  for  his  gleanings  from  such  jewel-cases  as 
were  spending  the  Easter  recess  in  the  strong-room 
of  my  bank,  without  going  into  rhapsodies  or  even 
particulars  on  the  point,  I  may  mention  that  they 

55 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

realized  enough  for  me  to  join  Raffles  on  his  de- 
ferred holiday  in  Scotland,  besides  enabling  him 
to  play  more  regularly  for  Middlesex  in  the  ensu- 
ing summer  than  had  been  the  case  for  several 
seasons.  In  fine,  this  particular  exploit  entirely 
justified  itself  in  my  eyes,  in  spite  of  the  superfluous 
(but  invariable)  secretiveness  which  I  could  sel- 
dom help  resenting  in  my  heart.  I  never  thought 
less  of  it  than  in  the  present  instance ;  and  my  one 
mild  reproach  was  on  the  subject  of  the  phantom 
Crawshay. 

"You  let  me  think  he  was  in  the  air  again,"  I 
said.  "But  it  wouldn't  surprise  me  to  find  that 
you  had  never  heard  of  him  since  the  day  of  his 
escape  through  your  window." 

"I  never  even  thought  of  him,  Bunny,  until  you 
came  to  see  me  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  put 
him  into  my  head  with  your  first  words.  The 
whole  point  was  to  make  you  as  genuinely  anxious 
about  the  plate  as  you  must  have  seemed  all  along 
the  line." 

"Of  course  I  see  your  point,"  I  rejoined;  "but 
mine  is  that  you  labored  it.  You  needn't  have 
written  me  a  downright  lie  about  the  fellow." 

"Nor  did  I  ,  Bunny." 

"Not  about  the  'prince  of  professors'  being 
'in  the  offing'  when  you  left?" 

56 


The  Chest  of  Silver 

"My  dear  Bunny,  but  so  he  was!"  cried  Raffles. 
"Time  was  when  I  was  none  too  pure  an  amateur. 
But  after  this  I  take  leave  to  consider  myself  a  pro- 
fessor of  the  professors.  And  I  should  like  to  see 
one  more  capable  of  skippering  their  side !" 


57 


The  Rest  Cure 

I  HAD  not  seen  Raffles  for  a  month  or  more, 
and  I  was  sadly  in  need  of  his  advice.  My 
life  was  being  made  a  burden  to  me  by  a  wretch 
who  had  obtained  a  bill  of  sale  over  the  furniture 
in  Mount  Street,  and  it  was  only  by  living  else- 
where that  I  could  keep  the  vulpine  villain  from 
my  door.  This  cost  ready  money,  and  my  balance 
at  the  bank  was  sorely  in  need  of  another  lift  from 
Raffles.  Yet,  had  he  been  in  my  shoes,  he  could 
not  have  vanished  more  effectually  than  he  had 
done,  both  from  the  face  of  the  town  and  from 
the  ken  of  all  who  knew  him. 

It  was  late  in  August;  he  never  played  first-class 
cricket  after  July,  when,  a  scholastic  understudy 
took  his  place  in  the  Middlesex  eleven.  And  in 
vain  did  I  scour  my  Field  and  my  Sportsman  for 
the  country-house  matches  with  which  he  wilfully 
preferred  to  wind  up  the  season ;  the  matches  were 
there,  but  never  the  magic  name  of  A.  J.  Raffles. 
Nothing  was  known  of  him  at  the  Albany;  he  had 
left  no  instructions  about  his  letters,  either  there 

58 


The  Rest  Cure 

or  at  the  club.  I  began  to  fear  that  some  evil  had 
overtaken  him.  I  scanned  the  features  of  cap- 
tured criminals  in  the  illustrated  Sunday  papers; 
on  each  occasion  I  breathed  again;  nor  was  any- 
thing worthy  of  Raffles  going  on.  I  will  not  deny 
that  I  was  less  anxious  on  his  account  than  on  my 
own.  But  it  was  a  double  relief  to  me  when  he 
gave  a  first  characteristic  sign  of  life. 

I  had  called  at  the  Albany  for  the  fiftieth  time, 
and  returned  to  Piccadilly  in  my  usual  despair, 
when  a  street  sloucher  sidled  up  to  me  in  furtive 
fashion  and  inquired  if  my  name  was  what  it  is. 

"  'Cause  this  'ere's  for  you,"  he  rejoined  to  my 
affirmative,  and  with  that  I  felt  a  crumpled  note 
in  my  palm. 

It  was  from  Raffles.  I  smoothed  out  the  twisted 
scrap  of  paper,  and  on  it  were  just  a  couple  of 
lines  in  pencil: 

"Meet  me  in  Holland  Walk  at  dark  to-night.     Walk 
up  and  down  till  I  come.  A.  J.  R." 

That  was  all!  Not  another  syllable  after  all 
these  weeks,  and  the  few  words  scribbled  in  a  wild 
caricature  of  his  scholarly  and  dainty  hand!  I 
was  no  longer  to  be  alarmed  by  this  sort  of  thing; 
it  was  all  so  like  the  Raffles  I  loved  least;  and  to 
add  to  my  indignation,  when  at  length  I  looked  up 

59 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

from  the  mysterious  missive,  the  equally  mys- 
terious messenger  had  disappeared  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  the  whole  affair.  He  was,  however,  the 
first  creature  I  espied  under  the  tattered  trees  of 
Holland  Walk  that  evening. 

"Seen  'im  yet?"  he  inquired  confidentially, 
blowing  a  vile  cloud  from  his  horrid  pipe. 

"No,  I  haven't;  and  I  want  to  know  where 
you've  seen  him,"  I  replied  sternly.  "Why  did 
you  run  away  like  that  the  moment  you  had  given 
me  his  note?" 

"Orders,  orders,"  was  the  reply.  "I  ain't  such 
a  juggins  as  to  go  agen  a  toff  as  makes  it  worf 
while  to  do  as  I'm  bid  an'  'old  me  tongue." 

"And  who  may  you  be?"  I  asked  jealously. 
"And  what  are  you  to  Mr.  Raffles?" 

"You  silly  ass,  Bunny,  don't  tell  all  Kensington 
that  I'm  in  town!"  replied  my  tatterdemalion, 
shooting  up  and  smoothing  out  into  a  merely 
shabby  Raffles.  "Here,  take  my  arm — I'm  not 
so  beastly  as  I  look.  But  neither  am  I  in  town, 
nor  in  England,  nor  yet  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
for  all  that's  known  of  me  to  a  single  soul  but 
you." 

"Then  where  are  you,"  I  asked,  "between  our- 
selves?" 

"I've  taken  a  house  near  here  for  the  holidays, 

60 


The  Rest  Cure 

where  I'm  going  in  for  a  Rest  Cure  of  my  own 
description.  Why?  Oh,  for  lots  of  reasons,  my 
dear  Bunny;  among  others,  I  have  long  had  a 
wish  to  grow  my  own  beard;  under  the  next  lamp- 
post you  will  agree  that  it's  training  on  very 
nicely.  Then,  you  mayn't  know  it,  but  there's 
a  canny  man  at  Scotland  Yard  who  has  had  a  quiet 
eye  on  me  longer  than  I  like.  I  thought  it  about 
time  to  have  an  eye  on  him,  and  I  stared  him  in 
the  face  outside  the  Albany  this  very  morning. 
That  was  when  I  saw  you  go  in,  and  scribbled  a 
line  to  give  you  when  you  came  out.  If  he  had 
caught  us  talking  he  would  have  spotted  me  at 
once." 

"So  you  are  lying  low  out  here !" 

"I  prefer  to  call  it  my  Rest  Cure,"  returned 
Raffles,  "and  it's  really  nothing  else.  I've  got  a 
furnished  house  at  a  time  when  no  one  else  would 
have  dreamed  of  taking  one  in  town ;  and  my  very 
neighbors  don't  know  I'm  there,  though  I'm 
bound  to  say  there  are  hardly  any  of  them  at 
home.  I  don't  keep  a  servant,  and  do  everything 
for  myself.  It's  the  next  best  fun  to  a  desert 
island.  Not  that  I  make  much  work,  for  I'm 
really  resting,  but  I  haven't  done  so  much  solid 
reading  for  years.  Rather  a  joke,  Bunny :  the  man 
whose  house  I've  taken  is  one  of  her  Majesty's 

61 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

inspectors  of  prisons,  and  his  study's  a  storehouse 
of  criminology.  It  has  been  quite  amusing  to  lie 
on  one's  back  and  have  a  good  look  at  one's  self 
as  others  fondly  imagine  they  see  one." 

"But  surely  you  get  some  exercise?"  I  asked; 
for  he  was  leading  me  at  a  good  rate  through  the 
leafy  byways  of  Campden  Hill;  and  his  step  was 
as  springy  and  as  light  as  ever. 

"The  best  exercise  I  ever  had  in  my  life,"  said 
Raffles;  "and  you  would  never  live  to  guess  what 
it  is.  It's  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  went  in  for 
this  seedy  kit.  I  follow  cabs.  Yes,  Bunny,  I 
turn  out  about  dusk  and  meet  the  expresses  at 
Euston  or  King's  Cross;  that  is,  of  course,  I  loaf 
outside  and  pick  my  cab,  and  often  run  my  three 
or  four  miles  for  a  bob  or  less.  And  it  not  only 
keeps  you  in  the  very  pink:  if  you're  good  they 
let  you  carry  the  trunks  up-stairs;  and  I've  taken 
notes  from  the  inside  of  more  than  one  commo- 
dious residence  which  will  come  in  useful  in  the 
autumn.  In  fact,  Bunny,  what  with  these  new 
Rowton  houses,  my  beard,  and  my  otherwise  well- 
spent  holiday,  I  hope  to  have  quite  a  good 
autumn  season  before  the  erratic  Raffles  turns  up 
in  town." 

I  felt  it  high  time  to  wedge  in  a  word  about  my 
own  far  less  satisfactory  affairs.     But  it  was  not 

62 


The  Rest  Cure 

necessary  for  me  to  recount  half  my  troubles. 
Raffles  could  be  as  full  of  himself  as  many  a  worse 
man,  and  I  did  not  like  his  society  the  less  for 
these  human  outpourings.  They  had  rather  the 
effect  of  putting  me  on  better  terms  with  myself, 
through  bringing  him  down  to  my  level  for  the 
time  being.  But  his  egoism  was  not  even  skin- 
deep;  it  was  rather  a  cloak,  which  Raffles  could 
cast  off  quicker  than  any  man  I  ever  knew,  as  he 
did  not  fail  to  show  me  now. 

"Why,  Bunny,  this  is  the  very  thing!"  he  cried. 
"You  must  come  and  stay  with  me,  and  we'll  lie 
low  side  by  side.  Only  remember  it  really  is  a 
Rest  Cure.  I  want  to  keep  literally  as  quiet  as  I 
was  without  you.  What  do  you  say  to  forming 
ourselves  at  once  into  a  practically  Silent  Order? 
You  agree?  Very  well,  then,  here's  the  street 
and  that's  the  house." 

It  was  ever  such  a  quiet  little  street,  turning  out 
of  one  of  those  which  climb  right  over  the  pleas- 
ant hill.  One  side  was  monopolized  by  the  garden 
wall  of  an  ugly  but  enviable  mansion  standing  in 
its  own  ground;  opposite  were  a  solid  file  of 
smaller  but  taller  houses;  on  neither  side  were 
there  many  windows  alight,  nor  a  solitary  soul  on 
the  pavement  or  in  the  road.  Raffles  led  the  way 
to  one  of  the  small  tall  houses.     It  stood  immedi- 

63 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

ately  behind  a  lamppost,  and  I  could  not  but 
notice  that  a  love-lock  of  Virginia  creeper  was 
trailing  almost  to  the  step,  and  that  the  bow-win- 
dow on  the  ground  floor  was  closely  shuttered. 
Raffles  admitted  himself  with  his  latch-key,  and  I 
squeezed  past  him  into  a  very  narrow  hall.  I  did 
not  hear  him  shut  the  door,  but  we  were  no  longer 
in  the  lamplight,  and  he  pushed  softly  past  me 
in  his  turn. 

"I'll  get  a  light,"  he  muttered  as  he  went;  but 
to  let  him  pass  I  had  leaned  against  some  electric 
switches,  and  while  his  back  was  turned  I  tried 
one  of  these  without  thinking.  In  an  instant  hall 
and  staircase  were  flooded  with  light;  in  another 
Raffles  was  upon  me  in  a  fury,  and  all  was  dark 
once  more.  He  had  not  said  a  word,  but  I  heard 
him  breathing  through  his  teeth. 

Nor  was  there  anything  to  tell  me  now.  The 
mere  flash  of  electric  light  upon  a  hall  of  chaos 
and  uncarpeted  stairs,  and  on  the  face  of  Raffles 
as  he  sprang  to  switch  it  off,  had  been  enough  even 
for  me. 

"So  this  is  how  you  have  taken  the  house,"  said 
I  in  his  own  undertone.  "  'Taken'  is  good;  'taken' 
is  beautiful!" 

"Did  you  think  I'd  done  it  through  an  agent?" 
he  snarled.     "Upon  my  word,  Bunny,  I  did  you 

64 


The  Rest  Cure 

the  credit  of  supposing  you  saw  the  joke  all  the 
time!" 

"Why  shouldn't  you  take  a  house,"  I  asked, 
"and  pay  for  it?" 

"Why  should  I,"  he  retorted,  "within  three 
miles  of  the  Albany?  Besides,  I  should  have  had 
no  peace;  and  I  meant  every  word  I  said  about 
my  Rest  Cure." 

"You  are  actually  staying  in  a  house  where 
you've  broken  in  to  steal?" 

"Not  to  steal,  Bunny!  I  haven't  stolen  a 
thing.  But  staying  here  I  certainly  am,  and  hav- 
ing the  most  complete  rest  a  busy  man  could 
wish." 

"There'll  be  no  rest  for  me!" 

Raffles  laughed  as  he  struck  a  match.  I  had 
followed  him  into  what  would  have  been  the  back 
drawing-room  in  the  ordinary  little  London 
house;  the  inspector  of  prisons  had  converted  it 
into  a  separate  study  by  filling  the  folding  doors 
with  book-shelves,  which  I  scanned  at  once  for  the 
congenial  works  of  which  Raffles  had  spoken.  I 
was  not  able  to  carry  my  examination  very  far. 
Raffles  had  lighted  a  candle,  stuck  (by  its  own 
grease)  in  the  crown  of  an  opera  hat,  which  he 
opened  the  moment  the  wick  caught.  The  light 
thus  struck  the  ceiling  in  an  oval  shaft,  which  left 

65 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

the  rest  of  the  room  almost  as  dark  as  it  had  been 
before. 

"Sorry,  Bunny!"  said  Raffles,  sitting  on  one 
pedestal  of  a  desk  from  which  the  top  had  been 
removed,  and  setting  his  makeshift  lantern  on  the 
other.  "In  broad  daylight,  when  it  can't  be 
spotted  from  the  outside,  you  shall  have  as  much 
artificial  light  as  you  like.  If  you  want  to  do  some 
writing,  that's  the  top  of  the  desk  on  end  against 
the  mantlepiece.  You'll  never  have  a  better  chance 
so  far  as  interruption  goes.  But  no  midnight  oil 
or  electricity!  You  observe  that  their  last  care 
was  to  fix  up  these  shutters;  they  appear  to  have 
taken  the  top  off  the  desk  to  get  at  'em  without 
standing  on  it;  but  the  beastly  things  wouldn't  go 
all  the  way  up,  and  the  strip  they  leave  would  give 
us  away  to  the  backs  of  the  other  houses  if  we  lit 
up  after  dark.  Mind  that  telephone!  If  you 
touch  the  receiver  they  will  know  at  the  exchange 
that  the  house  is  not  empty,  and  I  wouldn't  put 
it  past  the  colonel  to  have  told  them  exactly  how 
long  he  was  going  to  be  away.  He's  pretty  par- 
ticular: look  at  the  strips  of  paper  to  keep  the  dust 
off  his  precious  books  !" 

"Is  he  a  colonel?"  I  asked,  perceiving  that  Raf- 
fles referred  to  the  absentee  householder. 

"Of  sappers,"  he  replied,  "and  a  V.C.  into  the 

66 


The  Rest  Cure 

bargain,  confound  him!  Got  it  at  Rorke's  Drift; 
prison  governor  or  inspector  ever  since;  favorite 
recreation,  what  do  you  think?  Revolver  shoot- 
ing !  You  can  read  all  about  him  in  his  own  Who's 
Who.  A  devil  of  a  chap  to  tackle,  Bunny,  when 
he's  at  home !" 

"And  where  is  he  now?"  I  asked  uneasily. 
"And  do  you  know  he  isn't  on  his  way  home?" 

"Switzerland,"  replied  Raffles,  chuckling;  "he 
wrote  one  too  many  labels,  and  was  considerate 
enough  to  leave  it  behind  for  our  guidance.  Well, 
no  one  ever  comes  back  from  Switzerland  at  the 
beginning  of  September,  you  know;  and  nobody 
ever  thinks  of  coming  back  before  the  servants. 
When  they  turn  up  they  won't  get  in.  I  keep  the 
latch  jammed,  but  the  servants  will  think  it's 
jammed  itself,  and  while  they're  gone  for  the  lock- 
smith we  shall  walk  out  like  gentlemen — if  we 
haven't  done  so  already." 

"As  you  walked  in,  I  suppose?" 

Raffles  shook  his  head  in  the  dim  light  to  which 
my  sight  was  growing  inured. 

"No,  Bunny,  I  regret  to  say  I  came  in  through 
the  dormer  window.  They  were  painting  next 
door  but  one.  I  never  did  like  ladder  work,  but 
it  takes  less  time  than  in  picking  a  lock  in  the 
broad  light  of  a  street  lamp." 

67 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"So  they  left  you  a  latch-key  as  well  as  every- 
thing else !" 

"No,  Bunny.  I  was  just  able  to  make  that  for 
myself.  I  am  playing  at  'Robinson  Crusoe,'  not 
'The  Swiss  Family  Robinson.'  And  now,  my  dear 
Friday,  if  you  will  kindly  take  off  those  boots,  we 
can  explore  the  island  before  we  turn  in  for  the 
night." 

The  stairs  were  very  steep  and  narrow,  and 
they  creaked  alarmingly  as  Raffles  led  the  way 
up,  with  the  single  candle  in  the  crown  of  the 
colonel's  hat.  He  blew  it  out  before  we  reached 
the  half-landing,  where  a  naked  window  stared 
upon  the  backs  of  the  houses  in  the  next  road,  but 
lit  it  again  at  the  drawing-room  door.  I  just 
peeped  in  upon  a  semi-grand  swathed  in  white  and 
a  row  of  water  colors  mounted  in  gold.  An  ex- 
cellent bathroom  broke  our  journey  to  the  second 
floor. 

"I'll  have  one  to-night,"  said  I,  taking  heart  of 
a  luxury  unknown  in  my  last  sordid  sanctuary. 

"You'll  do  no  such  thing,"  snapped  Raffles. 
"Have  the  goodness  to  remember  that  our  island 
is  one  of  a  group  inhabited  by  hostile  tribes.  You 
can  fill  the  bath  quietly  if  you  try,  but  it  empties 
under  the  study  window,  and  makes  the  very  devil 
of  a  noise  about  it.     No,  Bunny,  I  bale  out  every 

68 


The  Rest  Cure 

drop  and  pour  it  away  through  the  scullery  swik, 
so  you  will  kindly  consult  me  before  you  turn  a 
tap.  Here's  your  room;  hold  the  light  outside 
while  I  draw  the  curtains;  it's  the  old  chap's  dress- 
ing-room. Now  you  can  bring  the  glim.  How's 
that  for  a  jolly  wardrobe?  And  look  at  his  coats 
on  their  cross-trees  inside:  dapper  old  dog, 
shouldn't  you  say?  Mark  the  boots  on  the  shelf 
above,  and  the  little  brass  rail  for  his  ties !  Didn't 
I  tell  you  he  was  particular?  And  wouldn't  he 
simply  love  to  catch  us  at  his  kit?" 

"Let's  only  hope  it  would  give  him  an  apo- 
plexy," said  I  shuddering. 

"I  shouldn't  build  on  it,"  replied  Raffles. 
"That's  a  big  man's  trouble,  and  neither  you  nor 
I  could  get  into  the  old  chap's  clothes.  But  come 
into  the  best  bedroom,  Bunny.  You  won't  think 
me  selfish  if  I  don't  give  it  up  to  you?  Look  at 
this,  my  boy,  look  at  this!  It's  the  only  one  I 
use  in  all  the  house." 

I  had  followed  him  into  a  good  room,  with 
ample  windows  closely  curtained,  and  he  had 
switched  on  the  light  in  a  hanging  lamp  at  the 
bedside.  The  rays  fell  from  a  thick  green  fun- 
nel in  a  plateful  of  strong  light  upon  a  table  deep 
in  books.  I  noticed  several  volumes  of  the  "In- 
vasion of  the  Crimea." 

69 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"That's  where  I  rest  the  body  and  exercise  the 
brain,"  said  Raffles.  "I  have  long  wanted  to  read 
my  Kinglake  from  A  to  Z,  and  I  manage  about 
a  volume  a  night.  There's  a  style  for  you,  Bunny ! 
I  love  the  punctilious  thoroughness  of  the  whole 
thing;  one  can  understand  its  appeal  to  our  careful 
colonel.  His  name,  did  you  say?  Crutchley, 
Bunny — Colonel  Crutchley,  R.E.,  V.C." 

"We'd  put  his  valor  to  the  test!"  said  I,  feeling 
more  valiant  myself  after  our  tour  of  inspec- 
tion. 

"Not  so  loud  on  the  stairs,"  whispered  Raffles. 
'There's  only  one  door  between  us  and " 

Raffles  stood  still  at  my  feet,  and  well  he  might ! 
A  deafening  double  knock  had  resounded  through 
the  empty  house;  and  to  add  to  the  utter  horror 
of  the  moment,  Raffles  instantly  blew  out  the  light. 
I  heard  my  heart  pounding.  Neither  of  us 
breathed.  We  were  on  our  way  down  to  the  first 
landing,  and  for  a  moment  we  stood  like  mice; 
then  Raffles  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  in  the  depths 
I  heard  the  gate  swing  home. 

"Only  the  postman,  Bunny!  He  will  come 
now  and  again,  though  they  have  obviously  left 
instructions  at  the  post-office.  I  hope  the  old  colo- 
nel will  let  them  have  it  when  he  gets  back.  I 
confess  it  gave  me  a  turn." 

70 


The  Rest  Cure 

"Turn!"  I  gasped.  "I  must  have  a  drink,  if  I 
die  for  it." 

"My  dear  Bunny,  that's  no  part  of  my  Rest 
Cure." 

"Then  good-by!  I  can't  stand  it;  feel  my  fore- 
head; listen  to  my  heart!  Crusoe  found  a  foot- 
print, but  he  never  heard  a  double-knock  at  the 
street  door!" 

"  'Better  live  in  the  midst  of  alarms,'  "  quoted 
Raffles,  "  'than  dwell  in  this  horrible  place.'  I 
must  confess  we  get  it  both  ways,  Bunny.  Yet 
I've  nothing  but  tea  in  the  house." 

"And  where  do  you  make  that?  Aren't  you 
afraid  of  smoke?" 

"There's  a  gas-stove  in  the  dining-room." 

"But  surely  to  goodness,"  I  cried,  "there's  a 
cellar  lower  down!" 

"My  dear,  good  Bunny,"  said  Raffles,  "I've 
told  you  already  that  I  didn't  come  in  here  on 
business.  I  came  in  for  the  Cure.  Not  a  penny 
will  these  people  be  the  worse,  except  for  their 
washing  and  their  electric  light,  and  I  mean  to 
leave  enough  to  cover  both  items." 

"Then,"  said  I,  "since  Brutus  is  such  a  very 
honorable  man,  we  will  borrow  a  bottle  from  the 
cellar,  and  replace  it  before  we  go." 

Raffles  slapped  me  softly  on  the  back,  and  I 

7i 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

knew  that  I  had  gained  my  point.  It  was  often  the 
case  when  I  had  the  presence  of  heart  and  mind 
to  stand  up  to  him.  But  never  was  little  victory 
of  mine  quite  so  grateful  as  this.  Certainly  it 
was  a  very  small  cellar,  indeed  a  mere  cupboard 
under  the  kitchen  stairs,  with  a  most  ridiculous 
lock.  Nor  was  this  cupboard  overstocked  with 
wine.  But  I  made  out  a  jar  of  whiskey,  a  shelf  of 
Zeltinger,  another  of  claret,  and  a  short  one  at  the 
top  which  presented  a  little  battery  of  golden- 
leafed  necks  and  corks.  Raffles  set  his  hand  no 
lower.  He  examined  the  labels  while  I  held 
folded  hat  and  naked  light. 

"Mumm,  '84 !"  he  whispered.  "G.  H.  Mumm, 
and  A.D.  1884!  I  am  no  wine-bibber,  Bunny,  as 
you  know,  but  I  hope  you  appreciate  the  specifica- 
tions as  I  do.  It  looks  to  me  like  the  only  bottle, 
the  last  of  its  case,  and  it  does  seem  a  bit  of  a 
shame;  but  more  shame  for  the  miser  who  hoards 
in  his  cellar  what  was  meant  for  mankind !  Come, 
Bunny,  lead  the  way.  This  baby  is  worth  nursing. 
It  would  break  my  heart  if  anything  happened  to 
it  now!" 

So  we  celebrated  my  first  night  in  the  furnished 
house;  and  I  slept  beyond  belief,  slept  as  I  never 
was  to  sleep  there  again.  But  it  was  strange  to 
hear  the  milkman  in  the  early  morning,  and  the 

72 


The  Rest  Cure 

postman  knocking  his  way  along  the  street  an  hour 
later,  and  to  be  passed  over  by  one  destroying 
angel  after  another.  I  had  come  down  early 
enough,  and  watched  through  the  drawing-room 
blind  the  cleansing  of  all  the  steps  in  the  street 
but  ours.  Yet  Raffles  had  evidently  been  up  some 
time;  the  house  seemed  far  purer  than  overnight 
as  though  he  had  managed  to  air  it  room  by  room; 
and  from  the  one  with  the  gas-stove  there  came 
a  frizzling  sound  that  fattened  the  heart. 

I  only  would  I  had  the  pen  to  do  justice  to  the 
week  I  spent  in-doors  on  Campden  Hill !  It  might 
make  amusing  reading;  the  reality  for  me  was  far 
removed  from  the  realm  of  amusement.  Not 
that  I  was  denied  many  a  laugh  of  suppressed 
heartiness  when  Raffles  and  I  were  together.  But 
half  our  time  we  very  literally  saw  nothing  of  each 
other.  I  need  not  say  whose  fault  that  was.  He 
would  be  quiet;  he  was  in  ridiculous  and  offensive 
earnest  about  his  egregious  Cure.  Kinglake  he 
would  read  by  the  hour  together,  day  and  night, 
by  the  hanging  lamp,  lying  up-stairs  on  the  best 
bed.  There  was  daylight  enough  for  me  in  the 
drawing-room  below;  and  there  I  would  sit  im= 
mersed  in  criminous  tomes  weakly  fascinated  until 
I  shivered  and  shook  in  my  stocking  soles.  Often 
I  longed  to  do  something  hysterically  desperate, 

73 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

to  rouse   Raffles  and  bring  the  street  about  our 
ears;  once  I  did  bring  him  about  mine  by  striking 
a  single  note  on  the  piano,  with  the  soft  pedal 
down.     His  neglect  of  me  seemed  wanton  at  the 
time.     I  have  long  realized  that  he  was  only  wise 
to   maintain   silence    at   the    expense    of   perilous 
amenities,  and  as  fully  justified  in  those  secret  and 
solitary  sorties  which  made  bad  blood  in  my  veins. 
He  was  far  cleverer  than  I  at  getting  in  and  out; 
but  even  had  I  been  his  match   for  stealth  and 
wariness,  my  company  would  have  doubled  every 
risk.     I  admit  now  that  he  treated  me  with  quite 
as  much  sympathy  as  common  caution  would  per- 
mit.   But  at  the  time  I  took  it  so  badly  as  to  plan 
a  small  revenge. 

What  with  his  flourishing  beard  and  the  in- 
creasing shabbiness  of  the  only  suit  he  had 
brought  with  him  to  the  house,  there  was  no  deny- 
ing that  Raffles  had  now  the  advantage  of  a  per- 
manent disguise.  That  was  another  of  his  ex- 
cuses for  leaving  me  as  he  did,  and  it  was  the  one 
I  was  determined  to  remove.  On  a  morning, 
therefore,  when  I  awoke  to  find  him  flown  again, 
I  proceeded  to  execute  a  plan  which  I  had  already 
matured  in  my  mind.  Colonel  Crutchley  was  a 
married  man;  there  were  no  signs  of  children  in 
the  house;  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  much  evi- 

74 


The  Rest  Cure 

dence  that  the  wife  was  a  woman  of  fashion.  Her 
dresses  overflowed  the  wardrobe  and  her  room; 
large,  flat,  cardboard  boxes  were  to  be  found  in 
every  corner  of  the  upper  floors.  She  was  a  tall 
woman;  I  was  not  too  tall  a  man.  Like  Raffles, 
I  had  not  shaved  on  Campden  Hill.  That  morn- 
ing, however,  I  did  my  best  with  a  very  fair  razor 
which  the  colonel  had  left  behind  in  my  room; 
then  I  turned  out  the  lady's  wardrobe  and  the 
cardboard  boxes,  and  took  my  choice. 

I  have  fair  hair,  and  at  the  time  it  was  rather 
long.  With  a  pair  of  Mrs.  Crutchley's  tongs  and 
a  discarded  hair-net,  I  was  able  to  produce  an 
almost  immodest  fringe.  A  big  black  hat  with 
a  wintry  feather  completed  a  headdress  as  unsea- 
sonable as  my  skating  skirt  and  feather  boa;  of 
course,  the  good  lady  had  all  her  summer  frocks 
away  with  her  in  Switzerland.  This  was  all  the 
more  annoying  from  the  fact  that  we  were  having 
a  very  warm  September;  so  I  was  not  sorry  to  hear 
Raffles  return  as  I  was  busy  adding  a  layer  of  pow- 
der to  my  heated  countenance.  I  listened  a  mo- 
ment on  the  landing,  but  as  he  went  into  the  study 
I  determined  to  complete  my  toilet  in  every  detail. 
My  idea  was  first  to  give  him  the  fright  he  de- 
served, and  secondly  to  show  him  that  I  was  quite 
as  fit  to  move  abroad  as  he.     It  was,  however,  I 

75 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

confess,  a  pair  of  the  colonel's  gloves  that  I  was 
buttoning  as  I  slipped  down  to  the  study  even  more 
quietly  than  usual.  The  electric  light  was  on,  as 
it  generally  was  by  day,  and  under  it  stood  as  for- 
midable a  figure  as  ever  I  encountered  in  my  life 
of  crime. 

Imagine  a  thin  but  extremely  wiry  man,  past 
middle  age,  brown  and  bloodless  as  any  crab- 
apple,  but  as  coolly  truculent  and  as  casually  alert 
as  Raffles  at  his  worst.  It  was,  it  could  only  be, 
the  fire-eating  and  prison-inspecting  colonel  him- 
self! He  was  ready  for  me,  a  revolver  in  his 
hand,  taken,  as  I  could  see,  from  one  of  those 
locked  drawers  in  the  pedestal  desk  with  which 
Raffles  had  refused  to  tamper;  the  drawer  was 
open,  and  a  bunch  of  keys  depended  from  the 
lock.  A  grim  smile  crumpled  up  the  parchment 
face,  so  that  one  eye  was  puckered  out  of  sight; 
the  other  was  propped  open  by  an  eyeglass,  which, 
however,  dangled  on  its  string  when  I  appeared. 

"A  woman,  begad!"  the  warrior  exclaimed. 
"And  where's  the  man,  you  scarlet  hussy?" 

Not  a  word  could  I  utter.  But,  in  my  horror 
and  my  amazement,  I  have  no  sort  of  doubt  that 
I  acted  the  part  I  had  assumed  in  a  manner  I  never 
should  have  approached  in  happier  circumstances. 

"Come,  come,  my  lass,"  cried  the  old  oak  vet- 

76 


***J£0 


*>  ""■"■ihl! 


It  was  the  fire-eating  and  prison-inspecting  colonel  himself.     He  was  ready  for  me, 

a  revolver  in  his  hand. 


The  Rest  Cure 

eran,  "I'm  not  going  to  put  a  bullet  through  you, 
you  know !  You  tell  me  all  about  it,  and  it'll  do 
you  more  good  than  harm.  There,  I'll  put  the 
nasty  thing  away  and — God  bless  me,  if  the  brazen 
wench  hasn't  squeezed  into  the  wife's  kit!" 

A  squeeze  it  happened  to  have  been,  and  in  my 
emotion  it  felt  more  of  one  than  ever;  but  his 
sudden  discovery  had  not  heightened  the  veteran's 
animosity  against  me.  On  the  contrary,  I  caught 
a  glint  of  humor  through  his  gleaming  glass,  and 
he  proceeded  to  pocket  his  revolver  like  the  gen- 
tleman he  was. 

"Well,  well,  it's  lucky  I  looked  in,"  he  con- 
tinued. "I  only  came  round  on  the  off-chance  of 
letters,  but  if  I  hadn't  you'd  have  had  another 
week  in  clover.  Begad,  though,  I  saw  your  hand- 
writing the  moment  I'd  got  my  nose  inside !  Now 
just  be  sensible  and  tell  me  where  your  good 
man  is." 

I  had  no  man.  I  was  alone,  had  broken  in 
alone.  There  was  not  a  soul  in  the  affair  (much 
less  the  house)  except  myself.  So  much  I  stut- 
tered out  in  tones  too  hoarse  to  betray  me  on  the 
spot.  But  the  old  man  of  the  world  shook  a  hard 
old  head. 

"Quite  right  not  to  give  away  your  pal,"  said 
he.    "But  I'm  not  one  of  the  marines,  my  dear,  and 

77 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

you  mustn't  expect  me  to  swallow  all  that.  Well, 
if  you  won't  say,  you  won't,  and  we  must  just  send 
for  those  who  will." 

In  a  flash  I  saw  his  fell  design.  The  telephone 
directory  lay  open  on  one  of  the  pedestals.  He 
must  have  been  consulting  it  when  he  heard  me 
on  the  stairs;  he  had  another  look  at  it  now;  and 
that  gave  me  my  opportunity.  With  a  presence 
of  mind  rare  enough  in  me  to  excuse  the  boast,  I 
flung  myself  upon  the  instrument  in  the  corner 
and  hurled  it  to  the  ground  with  all  my  might.  I 
was  myself  sent  spinning  into  the  opposite  corner 
at  the  same  instant.  But  the  instrument  hap- 
pened to  be  a  standard  of  the  more  elaborate  pat- 
tern, and  I  flattered  myself  that  I  had  put  the 
delicate  engine  out  of  action  for  the  day. 

Not  that  my  adversary  took  the  trouble  to 
ascertain.  He  was  looking  at  me  strangely  in  the 
electric  light,  standing  intently  on  his  guard,  his 
right  hand  in  the  pocket  where  he  had  dropped 
his  revolver.  And  I — I  hardly  knew  it — but  I 
caught  up  the  first  thing  handy  for  self-defence, 
and  was  brandishing  the  bottle  which  Raffles  and 
I  had  emptied  in  honor  of  my  arrival  on  this  fatal 
scene. 

"Be  shot  if  I  don't  believe  you're  the  man 
himself!"  cried  the  colonel,  shaking  an  armed  fist 

78 


The  Rest  Cure 

in  my  face.  "You  young  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing ! 
Been  at  my  wine,  of  course !  Put  down  that  bot- 
tle; down  with  it  this  instant,  or  I'll  drill  a  tunnel 
through  your  middle.  I  thought  so !  Begad,  sir, 
you  shall  pay  for  this !  Don't  you  give  me  an 
excuse  for  potting  you  now,  or  I'll  jump  at  the 
chance!  My  last  bottle  of  '84 — you  miserable 
blackguard — you  unutterable  beast!" 

He  had  browbeaten  me  into  his  own  chair  in  his 
own  corner;  he  was  standing  over  me,  empty  bot- 
tle in  one  hand,  revolver  in  the  other,  and  murder 
itself  in  the  purple  puckers  of  his  raging  face. 
His  language  I  will  not  even  pretend  to  indicate: 
his  skinny  throat  swelled  and  trembled  with  the 
monstrous  volleys.  He  could  smile  at  my  appear- 
ance in  his  wife's  clothes;  he  would  have  had  my 
blood  for  the  last  bottle  of  his  best  champagne. 
His  eyes  were  not  hidden  now;  they  needed 
no  eyeglass  to  prop  them  open;  large  with  fury, 
they  started  from  the  livid  mask.  I  watched  noth- 
ing else.  I  could  not  understand  why  they  should 
start  out  as  they  did.  I  did  not  try.  I  say  I 
watched  nothing  else — until  I  saw  the  face  of 
Raffles  over  the  unfortunate  officer's  shoulder. 

Raffles  had  crept  in  unheard  while  our  alter- 
cation was  at  its  height,  had  watched  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  stolen  on  his  man  unobserved  by  either 

79 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

of  us.  While  my  own  attention  was  completely 
engrossed,  he  had  seized  the  colonel's  pistol-hand 
and  twisted  it  behind  the  colonel's  back  until  his 
eyes  bulged  out  as  I  have  endeavored  to  describe. 
But  the  fighting  man  had  some  fight  in  him  still; 
and  scarcely  had  I  grasped  the  situation  when  he 
hit  out  venomously  behind  with  the  bottle,  which 
was  smashed  to  bits  on  Raffles's  shin.  Then  I 
threw  my  strength  into  the  scale;  and  before  many 
minutes  we  had  our  officer  gagged  and  bound  in 
his  chair.  But  it  was  not  one  of  our  bloodless 
victories.  Raffles  had  been  cut  to  the  bone  by  the 
broken  glass;  his  leg  bled  wherever  he  limped; 
and  the  fierce  eyes  of  the  bound  man  followed  the 
wet  trail  with  gleams  of  sinister  satisfaction. 

I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  man  better  bound 
or  better  gagged.  But  the  humanity  seemed  to 
have  run  out  of  Raffles  with  his  blood.  He  tore 
up  tablecloths,  he  cut  down  blind-cords,  he 
brought  the  dust-sheets  from  the  drawing-room, 
and  multiplied  every  bond.  The  unfortunate 
man's  legs  were  lashed  to  the  legs  of  his  chair,  his 
arms  to  its  arms,  his  thighs  and  back  fairly  welded 
to  the  leather.  Either  end  of  his  own  ruler  pro- 
truded from  his  bulging  cheeks — the  middle  was 
hidden  by  his  moustache — and  the  gag  kept  in 
place  by  remorseless  lashings  at  the  back  of  his 

80 


The  Rest  Cure 

head.  It  was  a  spectacle  I  could  not  bear  to  con- 
template at  length,  while  from  the  first  I  found 
myself  physically  unable  to  face  the  ferocious  gaze 
of  those  implacable  eyes.  But  Raffles  only  laughed 
at  my  squeamishness,  and  flung  a  dust-sheet  over 
man  and  chair;  and  the  stark  outline  drove  me 
from  the  room. 

It  was  Raffles  at  his  worst,  Raffles  as  I  never 
knew  him  before  or  after — a  Raffles  mad  with 
pain  and  rage,  and  desperate  as  any  other  crimi- 
nal in  the  land.  Yet  he  had  struck  no  brutal  blow, 
he  had  uttered  no  disgraceful  taunt,  and  probably 
not  inflicted  a  tithe  of  the  pain  he  had  himself  to 
bear.  It  is  true  that  he  was  flagrantly  in  the 
wrong,  his  victim  as  laudably  in  the  right.  Never- 
theless, granting  the  original  sin  of  the  situation, 
and  given  this  unforeseen  development,  even  I 
failed  to  see  how  Raffles  could  have  combined 
greater  humanity  with  any  regard  for  our  joint 
safety;  and  had  his  barbarities  ended  here,  I  for 
one  should  not  have  considered  them  an  extraor- 
dinary aggravation  of  an  otherwise  minor  offence. 
But  in  the  broad  daylight  of  the  bathroom,  which 
had  a  ground-glass  window  but  no  blind,  I  saw  at 
once  the  serious  nature  of  his  wound  and  of  its 
effect  upon  the  man. 

"It  will  maim  me  for  a  month,"  said  he;  "and 

81 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

if  the  V.C.  comes  out  alive,  the  wound  he  gave 
may  be  identified  with  the  wound  I've  got." 

The  V.C. !  There,  indeed,  was  an  aggrava- 
tion to  one  illogical  mind.  But  to  cast  a  moment's 
doubt  upon  the  certainty  of  his  coming  out  alive ! 

"Of  course  he'll  come  out,"  said  I.  "We  must 
make  up  our  minds  to  that." 

"Did  he  tell  you  he  was  expecting  the  servants 
or  his  wife?     If  so,  of  course  we  must  hurry  up." 

"No,  Raffles,  I'm  afraid  he's  not  expecting  any- 
body. He  told  me,  if  he  hadn't  looked  in  for 
letters,  we  should  have  had  the  place  to  ourselves 
another  week.     That's  the  worst  of  it." 

Raffles  smiled  as  he  secured  a  regular  puttee  of 
dust-sheeting.     No  blood  was  coming  through. 

"I  don't  agree,  Bunny,"  said  he.  "It's  quite 
the  best  of  it,  if  you  ask  me." 

"What,  that  he  should  die  the  death?" 

"Why  not?" 

And  Raffles  stared  me  out  with  a  hard  and  mer- 
ciless light  in  his  clear  blue  eyes — a  light  that 
chilled  the  blood. 

"If  it's  a  choice  between  his  life  and  our  liberty, 
you're  entitled  to  your  decision  and  I'm  entitled  to 
mine,  and  I  took  it  before  I  bound  him  as  I  did," 
said  Raffles.  "I'm  only  sorry  I  took  so  much 
trouble  if  you're  going  to  stay  behind  and  put  him 

82 


The  Rest  Cure 

in  the  way  of  releasing  himself  before  he  gives  up 
the  ghost.  Perhaps  you  will  go  and  think  it  over 
while  I  wash  my  bags  and  dry  'em  at  the  gas- 
stove.  It  will  take  me  at  least  an  hour,  which  will 
just  give  me  time  to  finish  the  last  volume  of 
Kinglake." 

Long  before  he  was  ready  to  go,  however,  I 
was  waiting  in  the  hall,  clothed  indeed,  but  not  in 
a  mind  which  I  care  to  recall.  Once  or  twice  I 
peered  into  the  dining-room  where  Raffles  sat  be- 
fore the  stove,  without  letting  him  hear  me.  He, 
too,  was  ready  for  the  street  at  a  moment's  notice; 
but  a  steam  ascended  from  his  left  leg,  as  he  sat 
immersed  in  his  red  volume.  Into  the  study  I 
never  went  again;  but  Raffles  did,  to  restore  to  its 
proper  shelf  this  and  every  other  book  he  had 
taken  out  and  so  destroy  that  clew  to  the  manner 
of  man  who  had  made  himself  at  home  in  the 
house.  On  his  last  visit  I  heard  him  whisk  off  the 
dust-sheet;  then  he  waited  a  minute;  and  when  he 
came  out  it  was  to  lead  the  way  into  the  open  air 
as  though  the  accursed  house  belonged  to  him. 

"We  shall  be  seen,"  I  whispered  at  his  heels. 
"Raffles,  Raffles,  there's  a  policeman  at  the 
corner!" 

"I  know  him  intimately,"  replied  Raffles,  turn- 
ing, however,  the  other  way.     "He  accosted  me 

83 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

on  Monday,  when  I  explained  that  I  was  an  old 
soldier  of  the  colonel's  regiment,  who  came  in 
every  few  days  to  air  the  place  and  send  on  any 
odd  letters.  You  see,  I  have  always  carried  one 
or  two  about  me,  redirected  to  that  address  in 
Switzerland,  and  when  I  showed  them  to  him  it  was 
all  right.  But  after  that  it  was  no  use  listening  at 
the  letter-box  for  a  clear  coast,  was  it?" 

I  did  not  answer;  there  was  too  much  to  exas- 
perate in  these  prodigies  of  cunning  which  he  could 
never  trouble  to  tell  me  at  the  time.  And  I  knew 
why  he  had  kept  his  latest  feats  to  himself:  unwill- 
ing to  trust  me  outside  the  house,  he  had  system- 
atically exaggerated  the  dangers  of  his  own  walks 
abroad;  and  when  to  these  injuries  he  added  the 
insult  of  a  patronizing  compliment  on  my  late  dis- 
guise, I  again  made  no  reply. 

"What's  the  good  of  your  coming  with  me?" 
he  asked,  when  I  had  followed  him  across  the  main 
stream  of  Notting  Hill. 

"We  may  as  well  sink  or  swim  together,"  I 
answered  sullenly. 

"Yes?  Well,  I'm  going  to  swim  into  the  prov- 
inces, have  a  shave  on  the  way,  buy  a  new  kit 
piecemeal,  including  a  cricket-bag  (which  I  really 
want),  and  come  limping  back  to  the  Albany  with 
the  same  old  strain  in  my  bowling  leg.     I  needn't 

84 


The  Rest  Cure 

add  that  I  have  been  playing  country-house  cricket 
for  the  last  month  under  an  alias ;  it's  the  only  de- 
cent way  to  do  it  when  one's  county  has  need  of 
one.  That's  my  itinerary,  Bunny,  but  I  really 
can't  see  why  you  should  come  with  me." 

"We  may  as  well  swing  together!"  I  growled. 

"As  you  will,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  Raffles. 
"But  I  begin  to  dread  your  company  on  the  drop  !" 

I  shall  hold  my  pen  on  that  provincial  tour.  Not 
that  I  joined  Raffles  in  any  of  the  little  enterprises 
with  which  he  beguiled  the  breaks  in  our  journey; 
our  last  deed  in  London  was  far  too  great  a  weight 
upon  my  soul.  I  could  see  that  gallant  officer  in 
his  chair,  see  him  at  every  hour  of  the  day  and 
night,  now  with  his  indomitable  eyes  meeting  mine 
ferociously,  now  a  stark  outline  underneath  a 
sheet.  The  vision  darkened  my  day  and  gave  me 
sleepless  nights.  I  was  with  our  victim  in  all  his 
agony;  my  mind  would  only  leave  him  for  that 
gallows  of  which  Raffles  had  said  true  things  in 
jest.  No,  I  could  not  face  so  vile  a  death  lightly, 
but  I  could  meet  it,  somehow,  better  than  I  could 
endure  a  guilty  suspense.  In  the  watches  of  the 
second  night  I  made  up  my  mind  to  meet  it  half- 
way, that  very  morning,  while  still  there  might  be 
time  to  save  the  life  that  we  had  left  in  jeopardy. 
And  I  got  up  early  to  tell  Raffles  of  my  resolve. 

85 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

His  room  in  the  hotel  where  we  were  staying 
was  littered  with  clothes  and  luggage  new  enough 
for  any  bridegroom;  I  lifted  the  locked  cricket- 
bag,  and  found  it  heavier  than  a  cricket-bag  has 
any  right  to  be.  But  in  the  bed  Raffles  was  sleep- 
ing like  an  infant,  his  shaven  self  once  more.  And 
when  I  shook  him  he  awoke  with  a  smile. 

"Going  to  confess,  eh,  Bunny?  Well,  wait  a 
bit;  the  local  police  won't  thank  you  for  knocking 
them  up  at  this  hour.  And  I  bought  a  late  edition 
which  you  ought  to  see;  that  must  be  it  on  the 
floor.  You  have  a  look  in  the  stop-press  column, 
Bunny." 

I  found  the  place  with  a  sunken  heart,  and  this 
is  what  I  read: 

WEST-END   OUTRAGE 

Colonel  Crutchley,  R.E.,  V.C.,  has  been  the  victim  of 
a  dastardly  outrage  at  his  residence,  Peter  Street,  Camp- 
den  Hill.  Returning  unexpectedly  to  the  house,  which 
had  been  left  untenanted  during  the  absence  of  the  family 
abroad,  it  was  found  occupied  by  two  ruffians,  who  over- 
came and  secured  the  distinguished  officer  by  the  exercise 
of  considerable  violence.  When  discovered  through  the 
intelligence  of  the  Kensington  police,  the  gallant  victim 
was  gagged  and  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  in  an  ad- 
vanced stage  of  exhaustion. 

"Thanks  to  the  Kensington  police,"  observed 
Raffles,  as  I  read  the  last  words  aloud  in  my  hor- 

86 


The  Rest  Cure 

ror.  'They  can't  have  gone  when  they  got  my 
letter." 

"Your  letter?" 

"I  printed  them  a  line  while  we  were  waiting  for 
our  train  at  Euston.  They  must  have  got  it  that 
night,  but  they  can't  have  paid  any  attention  to  it 
until  yesterday  morning.  And  when  they  do,  they 
take  all  the  credit  and  give  me  no  more  than  you 
did,  Bunny!" 

I  looked  at  the  curly  head  upon  the  pillow,  at 
the  smiling,  handsome  face  under  the  curls.  And 
at  last  I  understood. 

"So  all  the  time  you  never  meant  it!" 

"Slow  murder?  You  should  have  known  me 
better.  A  few  hours'  enforced  Rest  Cure  was  the 
worst  I  wished  him." 

"You  might  have  told  me,  Raffles !" 

"That  may  be,  Bunny,  but  you  ought  certainly 
to  have  trusted  me !" 


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The  Criminologists'  Club 

"T3UT  who  are  they,  Raffles,  and  where's  their 
JJ  house  ?  There's  no  such  club  on  the  list  in 
Whitaker." 

"The  Criminologists,  my  dear  Bunny,  are  too 
few  for  a  local  habitation,  and  too  select  to  tell 
their  name  in  Gath.  They  are  merely  so  many 
solemn  students  of  contemporary  crime,  who  meet 
and  dine  periodically  at  each  other's  clubs  or 
houses." 

"But  why  in  the  world  should  they  ask  us  to 
dine  with  them?" 

And  I  brandished  the  invitation  which  had 
brought  me  hotfoot  to  the  Albany :  it  was  from  the 
Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Thornaby,  K.G. ;  and  it 
requested  the  honor  of  my  company  at  dinner,  at 
Thornaby  House,  Park  Lane,  to  meet  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Criminologists'  Club.  That  in  itself 
was  a  disturbing  compliment:  judge  then  of  my 
dismay  on  learning  that  Raffles  had  been  invited 
too! 

"They  have  got  it  into  their  heads,"  said  he, 
"that  the  gladiatorial  element  is  the  curse  of  most 

88 


The  Criminologists'  Club 

modern  sport.  They  tremble  especially  for  the 
professional  gladiator.  And  they  want  to  know 
whether  my  experience  tallies  with  their  theory." 

"So  they  say!" 

"They  quote  the  case  of  a  league  player,  sus  per 
coll.,  and  any  number  of  suicides.  It  really  is 
rather  in  my  public  line." 

"In  yours,  if  you  like,  but  not  in  mine,"  said  I. 
"No,  Raffles,  they've  got  their  eye  on  us  both,  and 
mean  to  put  us  under  the  microscope,  or  they  never 
would  have  pitched  on  me." 

Raffles  smiled  on  my  perturbation. 

"I  almost  wish  you  were  right,  Bunny!  It 
would  be  even  better  fun  than  I  mean  to  make  it 
as  it  is.  But  it  may  console  you  to  hear  that  it  was 
I  who  gave  them  your  name.  I  told  them  you 
were  a  far  keener  criminologist  than  myself.  I 
am  delighted  to  hear  they  have  taken  my  hint,  and 
that  we  are  to  meet  at  their  gruesome  board." 

"If  I  accept,"  said  I,  with  the  austerity  he 
deserved. 

"If  you  don't,"  rejoined  Raffles,  "you  will  miss 
some  sport  after  both  our  hearts.  Think  of  it, 
Bunny!  These  fellows  meet  to  wallow  in  all  the 
latest  crimes;  we  wallow  with  them  as  though  we 
knew  more  about  it  than  themselves.  Perhaps  we 
don't,   for  few  criminologists  have  a  soul  above 

89 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

murder;  and  I  quite  expect  to  have  the  privilege 
of  lifting  the  discussion  into  our  own  higher  walk. 
They  shall  give  their  morbid  minds  to  the  fine  art 
of  burgling,  for  a  change;  and  while  we're  about 
it,  Bunny,  we  may  as  well  extract  their  opinion  of 
our  noble  selves.  As  authors,  as  collaborators,  we 
will  sit  with  the  flower  of  our  critics,  and  find  our 
own  level  in  the  expert  eye.  It  will  be  a  piquant 
experience,  if  not  an  invaluable  one;  if  we  are 
sailing  too  near  the  wind,  we  are  sure  to  hear  about 
it,  and  can  trim  our  yards  accordingly.  Moreover, 
we  shall  get  a  very  good  dinner  into  the  bargain, 
or  our  noble  host  will  belie  a  European  repu- 
tation." 

"Do  you  know  him?"  I  asked. 

"We  have  a  pavilion  acquaintance,  when  it  suits 
my  lord,"  replied  Raffles,  chuckling.  "But  I  know 
all  about  him.  He  was  president  one  year  of  the 
M.C.C.,  and  we  never  had  a  better.  He  knows 
the  game,  though  I  believe  he  never  played  cricket 
in  his  life.  But  then  he  knows  most  things,  and 
has  never  done  any  of  them.  He  has  never  even 
married,  and  never  opened  his  lips  in  the  House 
of  Lords.  Yet  they  say  there  is  no  better  brain  in 
the  august  assembly,  and  he  certainly  made  us  a 
wonderful  speech  last  time  the  Australians  were 
over.     He  has  read  everything  and  (to  his  credit 

90 


The  Criminologists'  Club 

in  these  days)  never  written  a  line.  All  round  he 
is  a  whale  for  theory  and  a  sprat  for  practice — but 
he  looks  quite  capable  of  both  at  crime!" 

I  now  longed  to  behold  this  remarkable  peer 
in  the  flesh,  and  with  the  greater  curiosity  since 
another  of  the  things  which  he  evidently  never  did 
was  to  have  his  photograph  published  for  the  ben- 
efit of  the  vulgar.  I  told  Raffles  that  I  would  dine 
with  him  at  Lord  Thornaby's,  and  he  nodded  as 
though  I  had  not  hesitated  for  a  moment.  I  see 
now  how  deftly  he  had  disposed  of  my  reluctance. 
No  doubt  he  had  thought  it  all  out  before:  his 
little  speeches  look  sufficiently  premeditated  as  I 
set  them  down  at  the  dictates  of  an  excellent  mem- 
ory. Let  it,  however,  be  borne  in  mind  that  Raffles 
did  not  talk  exactly  like  a  Raffles  book:  he  said  the 
things,  but  he  did  not  say  them  in  so  many  consecu- 
tive breaths.  They  were  punctuated  by  puffs  from 
his  eternal  cigarette,  and  the  punctuation  was  often 
in  the  nature  of  a  line  of  asterisks,  while  he  took  a 
silent  turn  up  and  down  his  room.  Nor  was  he 
ever  more  deliberate  than  when  he  seemed  most 
nonchalant  and  spontaneous.  I  came  to  see  it  in 
the  end.  But  these  were  early  days,  in  which  he 
was  more  plausible  to  me  than  I  can  hope  to  render 
him  to  another  human  being. 

And  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  Raffles  just  then;  it 

9* 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

was,  in  fact,  the  one  period  at  which  I  can  remem- 
ber his  coming  round  to  see  me  more  frequently 
than  I  went  round  to  him.  Of  course  he  would 
come  at  his  own  odd  hours,  often  just  as  one  was 
dressing  to  go  out  and  dine,  and  I  can  even  remem- 
ber finding  him  there  when  I  returned,  for  I  had 
long  since  given  him  a  key  of  the  flat.  It  was  the 
inhospitable  month  of  February,  and  I  can  recall 
more  than  one  cosy  evening  when  we  discussed  any- 
thing and  everything  but  our  own  malpractices; 
indeed,  there  were  none  to  discuss  just  then.  Raf- 
fles, on  the  contrary,  was  showing  himself  with 
some  industry  in  the  most  respectable  society,  and 
by  his  advice  I  used  the  club  more  than  ever. 

"There  is  nothing  like  it  at  this  time  of  year," 
said  he.  "In  the  summer  I  have  my  cricket  to 
provide  me  with  decent  employment  in  the  sight 
of  men.  Keep  yourself  before  the  public  from 
morning  to  night,  and  they'll  never  think  of  you 
in  the  still  small  hours." 

Our  behavior,  in  fine,  had  so  long  been  irre- 
proachable that  I  rose  without  misgiving  on  the 
morning  of  Lord  Thornaby's  dinner  to  the  other 
Criminologists  and  guests.  My  chief  anxiety  was 
to  arrive  under  the  aegis  of  my  brilliant  friend,  and 
I  had  begged  him  to  pick  me  up  on  his  way;  but 
at  five  minutes  to  the  appointed  hour  there  was  no 

92 


The  Criminologists'  Club 

sign  of  Raffles  or  his  cab.  We  were  bidden  at  a 
quarter  to  eight  for  eight  o'clock,  so  after  all  I 
had  to  hurry  off  alone. 

Fortunately,  Thornaby  House  is  almost  at  the 
end  of  my  street  that  was;  and  it  seemed  to  me 
another  fortunate  circumstance  that  the  house 
stood  back,  as  it  did  and  does,  in  its  own  august 
courtyard ;  for,  as  I  was  about  to  knock,  a  hansom 
came  twinkling  in  behind  me,  and  I  drew  back, 
hoping  it  was  Raffles  at  the  last  moment.  It  was 
not,  and  I  knew  it  in  time  to  melt  from  the  porch, 
and  wait  yet  another  minute  in  the  shadows,  since 
others  were  as  late  as  I.  And  out  jumped  these 
others,  chattering  in  stage  whispers  as  they  paid 
their  cab. 

"Thornaby  has  a  bet  about  it  with  Freddy 
Vereker,  who  can't  come,  I  hear.  Of  course,  it 
won't  be  lost  or  won  to-night.  But  the  dear  man 
thinks  he's  been  invited  as  a  cricketer!" 

"I  don't  believe  he's  the  other  thing,"  said  a 
voice  as  brusque  as  the  first  was  bland.  "I  believe 
it's  all  bunkum.     I  wish  I  didn't,  but  I  do!" 

"I  think  you'll  find  it's  more  than  that,"  re- 
joined the  other,  as  the  doors  opened  and  swal- 
lowed the  pair. 

I  flung  out  limp  hands  and  smote  the  air. 
Raffles   bidden  to  what  he  had  well  called  this 

93 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"gruesome  board,"  not  as  a  cricketer  but,  clearly, 
as  a  suspected  criminal !  Raffles  wrong  all  the 
time,  and  I  right  for  once  in  my  original  appre- 
hension !  And  still  no  Raffles  in  sight — no  Raffles 
to  warn — no  Raffles,  and  the  clocks  striking  eight ! 

Well  may  I  shirk  the  psychology  of  such  a 
moment,  for  my  belief  is  that  the  striking  clocks 
struck  out  all  power  of  thought  and  feeling,  and 
that  I  played  my  poor  part  the  better  for  that 
blessed  surcease  of  intellectual  sensation.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  was  never  more  alive  to  the  purely 
objective  impressions  of  any  hour  of  my  existence, 
and  of  them  the  memory  is  startling  to  this  day. 
I  hear  my  mad  knock  at  the  double  doors ;  they  fly 
open  in  the  middle,  and  it  is  like  some  sumptuous 
and  solemn  rite.  A  long  slice  of  silken-legged 
lackey  is  seen  on  either  hand;  a  very  prelate  of  a 
butler  bows  a  benediction  from  the  sanctuary  steps. 
I  breathe  more  freely  when  I  reach  a  book-lined 
library  where  a  mere  handful  of  men  do  not  over- 
flow the  Persian  rug  before  the  fire.  One  of  them 
is  Raffles,  who  is  talking  to  a  large  man  with  the 
brow  of  a  demi-god  and  the  eyes  and  jowl  of  a 
degenerate  bulldog.     And  this  is  our  noble  host. 

Lord  Thornaby  stared  at  me  with  inscrutable 
stolidity  as  we  shook  hands,  and  at  once  handed 
me  over  to  a  tall,  ungainly  man  whom  he  addressed 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

as  Ernest,  but  whose  surname  I  never  learned. 
Ernest  in  turn  introduced  me,  with  a  shy  and 
clumsy  courtesy,  to  the  two  remaining  guests. 
They  were  the  pair  who  had  driven  up  in  the  han- 
som; one  turned  out  to  be  Kingsmill,  Q.C. ;  the 
other  I  knew  at  a  glance  from  his  photographs  as 
Parrington,  the  backwoods  novelist.  They  were 
admirable  foils  to  each  other,  the  barrister  being 
plump  and  dapper,  with  a  Napoleonic  cast  of  coun- 
tenance, and  the  author  one  of  the  shaggiest  dogs 
I  have  ever  seen  in  evening-clothes.  Neither  took 
much  stock  of  me,  but  both  had  an  eye  on  Raffles 
as  I  exchanged  a  few  words  with  each  in  turn. 
Dinner,  however,  was  immediately  announced,  and 
the  six  of  us  had  soon  taken  our  places  round  a 
brilliant  little  table  stranded  in  a  great  dark 
room. 

I  had  not  been  prepared  for  so  small  a  party, 
and  at  first  I  felt  relieved.  If  the  worst  came  to 
the  worst,  I  was  fool  enough  to  say  in  my  heart, 
they  were  but  two  to  one.  But  I  was  soon  sighing 
for  that  safety  which  the  adage  associates  with 
numbers.  We  were  far  too  few  for  the  confiden- 
tial duologue  with  one's  neighbor  in  which  I,  at 
least,  would  have  taken  refuge  from  the  perils  of 
a  general  conversation.  And  the  general  conver- 
sation soon  ~esolved  itself  into  an  attack,  so  subtly 

95 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

concerted  and  so  artistically  delivered  that  I  could 
not  conceive  how  Raffles  should  ever  know  it  for 
an  attack,  and  that  against  himself,  or  how  to  warn 
him  of  his  peril.  But  to  this  day  I  am  not  con- 
vinced that  I  also  was  honored  by  the  suspicions 
of  the  club;  it  may  have  been  so,  and  they  may 
have  ignored  me  for  the  bigger  game. 

It  was  Lord  Thornaby  himself  who  fired  the 
first  shot,  over  the  very  sherry.  He  had  Raffles 
on  his  right  hand,  and  the  backwoodsman  of  let- 
ters on  his  left.  Raffles  was  hemmed  in  by  the  law 
on  his  right,  while  I  sat  between  Parrington  and 
Ernest,  who  took  the  foot  of  the  table,  and  seemed 
a  sort  of  feudatory  cadet  of  the  noble  house.  But 
it  was  the  motley  lot  of  us  that  my  lord  addressed, 
as  he  sat  back  blinking  his  baggy  eyes. 

"Mr.  Raffles,"  said  he,  "has  been  telling  me 
about  that  poor  fellow  who  suffered  the  extreme 
penalty  last  March.  A  great  end,  gentlemen,  a 
great  end !  It  is  true  that  he  had  been  unfortunate 
enough  to  strike  a  jugular  vein,  but  his  own  end 
should  take  its  place  among  the  most  glorious  tra- 
ditions of  the  gallows.  You  tell  them  Mr.  Raffles : 
it  will  be  as  new  to  my  friends  as  it  is  to  me." 

"I  tell  the  tale  as  I  heard  it  last  time  I  played  at 
Trent  Bridge;  it  was  never  in  the  papers,  I  be- 
lieve," said  Raffles  gravely.     "You  may  remember 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

the  tremendous  excitement  over  the  Test  Matches 
out  in  Australia  at  the  time :  it  seems  that  the  result 
of  the  crucial  game  was  expected  on  the  condemned 
man's  last  day  on  earth,  and  he  couldn't  rest  until 
he  knew  it.  We  pulled  it  off,  if  you  recollect,  and 
he  said  it  would  make  him  swing  happy." 

"Tell  'em  what  else  he  said !"  cried  Lord  Thorn- 
aby,  rubbing  his  podgy  hands. 

"The  chaplain  remonstrated  with  him  on  his 
excitement  over  a  game  at  such  a  time,  and  the 
convict  is  said  to  have  replied :  'Why,  it's  the  first 
thing  they'll  ask  me  at  the  other  end  of  the 
drop !'  " 

The  story  was  new  even  to  me,  but  I  had  no 
time  to  appreciate  its  points.  My  concern  was  to 
watch  its  effect  upon  the  other  members  of  the 
party.  Ernest,  on  my  left,  doubled  up  with  laugh- 
ter, and  tittered  and  shook  for  several  minutes. 
My  other  neighbor,  more  impressionable  by  tem- 
perament, winced  first,  and  then  worked  himself 
into  a  state  of  enthusiasm  which  culminated  in  an 
assault  upon  his  shirt-cuff  with  a  joiner's  pencil. 
Kingsmill,  Q.C.,  beaming  tranquilly  on  Raffles, 
seemed  the  one  least  impressed,  until  he  spoke. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,"  he  remarked  in  a 
high  bland  voice.  "I  thought  that  man  would  die 
game." 

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A  Thief  in  the  Night 

''Did  you  know  anything  about  him,  then?" 
inquired  Lord  Thornaby. 

"I  led  for  the  Crown,"  replied  the  barrister, 
with  a  twinkle.  "You  might  almost  say  that  I 
measured  the  poor  man's  neck." 

The  point  must  have  been  quite  unpremedi- 
tated; it  was  not  the  less  effective  for  that.  Lord 
Thornaby  looked  askance  at  the  callous  silk.  It 
was  some  moments  before  Ernest  tittered  and  Par- 
rington  felt  for  his  pencil;  and  in  the  interim  I  had 
made  short  work  of  my  hock,  though  it  was 
Johannisberger.  As  for  Raffles,  one  had  but  to 
see  his  horror  to  feel  how  completely  he  was  off 
his  guard. 

"In  itself,  I  have  heard,  it  was  not  a  sympa- 
thetic case?"  was  the  remark  with  which  he  broke 
the  general  silence. 

"Not  a  bit." 

"That  must  have  been  a  comfort  to  you,"  said 
Raffles  dryly. 

"It  would  have  been  to  me,"  vowed  our  author, 
while  the  barrister  merely  smiled.  "I  should  have 
been  very  sorry  to  have  had  a  hand  in  hanging 
Peckham  and  Solomons  the  other  day." 

"Why  Peckham  and  Solomons?"  inquired  my 
lord. 

"They  never  meant  to  kill  that  old  lady." 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

"But  they  strangled  her  in  her  bed  with  her  own 
pillow-case!" 

"I  don't  care,"  said  the  uncouth  scribe.  "They 
didn't  break  in  for  that.  They  never  thought  of 
scragging  her.  The  foolish  old  person  would 
make  a  noise,  and  one  of  them  tied  too  tight.  I 
call  it  jolly  bad  luck  on  them." 

"On  quiet,  harmless,  well-behaved  thieves," 
added  Lord  Thornaby,  "in  the  unobtrusive  exer- 
cise of  their  humble  avocation." 

And,  as  he  turned  to  Raffles  with  his  puffy  smile, 
I  knew  that  we  had  reached  that  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme which  had  undergone  rehearsal :  it  had 
been  perfectly  timed  to  arrive  with  the  champagne, 
and  I  was  not  afraid  to  signify  my  appreciation 
of  that  small  mercy.  But  Raffles  laughed  so 
quickly  at  his  lordship's  humor,  and  yet  with  such 
a  natural  restraint,  as  to  leave  no  doubt  that  he 
had  taken  kindly  to  my  own  old  part,  and  was 
playing  the  innocent  inimitably  in  his  turn,  by  rea- 
son of  his  very  innocence.  It  was  a  poetic  judg- 
ment on  old  Raffles,  and  in  my  momentary  enjoy- 
ment of  the  novel  situation  I  was  able  to  enjoy 
some  of  the  good  things  of  this  rich  man's  table. 
The  saddle  of  mutton  more  than  justified  its  place 
in  the  menu;  but  it  had  not  spoiled  me  for  my 
wing  of  pheasant,  and  I  was  even  looking  forward 

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A  Thief  in  the  Night 

to  a  sweet,  when  a  further  remark  from  the  literary 
light  recalled  me  from  the  table  to  its  talk. 

"But,  I  suppose,"  said  he  to  Kingsmill,  "it's 
'many  a  burglar  you've  restored  to  his  friends  and 
his  relations'?" 

"Let  us  say  many  a  poor  fellow  who  has  been 
charged  with  burglary,"  replied  the  cheery  Q.C. 
"It's  not  quite  the  same  thing,  you  know,  nor  is 
'many'  the  most  accurate  word.  I  never  touch 
criminal  work  in  town." 

"It's  the  only  kind  I  should  care  about,"  said 
the  novelist,  eating  jelly  with  a  spoon. 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  our  host  chimed  in. 
"And  of  all  the  criminals  one  might  be  called  upon 
to  defend,  give  me  the  enterprising  burglar." 

"It  must  be  the  breeziest  branch  of  the  busi- 
ness," remarked  Raffles,  while  I  held  my  breath. 

But  his  touch  was  as  light  as  gossamer,  and  his 
artless  manner  a  triumph  of  even  his  incomparable 
art.  Raffles  was  alive  to  the  danger  at  last.  I 
saw  him  refuse  more  champagne,  even  as  I  drained 
my  glass  again.  But  it  was  not  the  same  danger  to 
us  both.  Raffles  had  no  reason  to  feel  surprise  or 
alarm  at  such  a  turn  in  a  conversation  frankly  de- 
voted to  criminology;  it  must  have  been  as  in- 
evitable to  him  as  it  was  sinister  to  me,  with  my 
fortuitous  knowledge  of  the  suspicions  that  were 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

'  tertained.  And  there  was  little  to  put  him  on  his 
guard  in  the  touch  of  his  adversaries,  which  was 
only  less  light  than  his  own. 

"I  am  not  very  fond  of  Mr.  Sikes,"  announced 
the  barrister,  like  a  man  who  had  got  his  cue. 

"But  he  was  prehistoric,"  rejoined  my  lord.  "A 
lot  of  blood  has  flowed  under  the  razor  since  the 
days  of  Sweet  William." 

"True;  we  have  had  Peace,"  said  Parrington, 
and  launched  out  into  such  glowing  details  of  that 
criminal's  last  moments  that  I  began  to  hope  the 
diversion  might  prove  permanent.  But  Lord 
Thornaby  was  not  to  be  denied. 

"William  and  Charles  are  both  dead  mon- 
archs,"  said  he.  "The  reigning  king  in  their  de- 
partment is  the  fellow  who  gutted  poor  Danby's 
place  in  Bond  Street." 

There  was  a  guilty  silence  on  the  part  of  the 
three  conspirators — for  I  had  long  since  persuaded 
myself  that  Ernest  was  not  in  their  secret — and 
then  my  blood  froze. 

"I  know  him  well,"  said  Raffles,  looking  up. 

Lord  Thornaby  stared  at  him  in  consternation. 
The  smile  on  the  Napoleonic  countenance  of  the 
barrister  looked  forced  and  frozen  for  the  first 
time  during  the  evening.  Our  author,  who  was 
nibbling  cheese  from  a  knife,  left  a  bead  of  blood 

IOI 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

to 

upon  his  beard.  The  futile  Ernest  alone  met  the 
occasion  with  a  hearty  titter. 

"What!"  cried  my  lord.  "You  know  the 
thief?" 

"I  wish  I  did,"  rejoined  Raffles,  chuckling. 
"No,  Lord  Thornaby,  I  only  meant  the  jeweller, 
Danby.  I  go  to  him  when  I  want  a  wedding 
present." 

I  heard  three  deep  breaths  drawn  as  one  before 
I  drew  my  own. 

"Rather  a  coincidence,"  observed  our  host 
dryly,  "for  I  believe  you  also  know  the  Milchester 
people,  where  Lady  Melrose  had  her  necklace 
stolen  a  few  months  afterward." 

"I  was  staying  there  at  the  time,"  said  Raffles 
eagerly.  No  snob  was  ever  quicker  to  boast  of 
basking  in  the  smile  of  the  great. 

"We  believe  it  to  be  the  same  man,"  said  Lord 
Thornaby,  speaking  apparently  for  the  Criminolo- 
gists' Club,  and  with  much  less  severity  of  voice. 

"I  only  wish  I  could  come  across  him,"  con- 
tinued Raffles  heartily.  "He's  a  criminal  much 
more  to  my  mind  than  your  murderers  who  swear 
on  the  drop  or  talk  cricket  in  the  condemned  cell !" 

"He  might  be  in  the  house  now,"  said  Lord 
Thornaby,  looking  Raffles  in  the  face.  But  his 
manner  was  that  of  an  actor  in  an  unconvincing 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

part  and  a  mood  to  play  it  gamely  to  the  bitter 
end;  and  he  seemed  embittered,  as  even  a  rich  man 
may  be  in  the  moment  of  losing  a  bet. 

"What  a  joke  if  he  were  !"  cried  the  Wild  West 
writer. 

"Absit  omen/"  murmured  Raffles,  in  better 
taste. 

"Still,  I  think  you'll  find  it's  a  favorite  time," 
argued  Kingsmill,  Q.C.  "And  it  would  be  quite 
in  keeping  with  the  character  of  this  man,  so  far 
as  it  is  known,  to  pay  a  little  visit  to  the  president 
of  the  Criminologists'  Club,  and  to  choose  the 
evening  on  which  he  happens  to  be  entertaining 
the  other  members." 

There  was  more  conviction  in  this  sally  than  in 
that  of  our  noble  host;  but  this  I  attributed  to  the 
trained  and  skilled  dissimulation  of  the  bar.  Lord 
Thornaby,  however,  was  not  to  be  amused  by  the 
elaboration  of  his  own  idea,  and  it  was  with  some 
asperity  that  he  called  upon  the  butler,  now  sol- 
emnly superintending  the  removal  of  the  cloth. 

"Leggett!  Just  send  up-stairs  to  see  if  all  the 
doors  are  open  and  the  rooms  in  proper  order. 
That's  an  awful  idea  of  yours,  Kingsmill,  or  of 
mine !"  added  my  lord,  recovering  the  courtesy  of 
his  order  by  an  effort  that  I  could  follow.  "We 
should  look  fools.     I  don't  know  which  of  us  it 

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A  Thief  in  the  Night 

was,  by  the  way,  who  seduced  the  rest  from  the 
main  stream  of  blood  into  this  burglarious  back- 
water. Are  you  familiar  with  De  Quincey's  mas- 
terpiece on  'Murder  as  a  Fine  Art,'  Mr.  Raffles?" 

"I  believe  I  once  read  it,"  replied  Raffles 
doubtfully. 

'You  must  read  it  again,"  pursued  the  earl. 
"It  is  the  last  word  on  a  great  subject;  all  we  can 
hope  to  add  is  some  baleful  illustration  or  blood- 
stained footnote,  not  unworthy  of  De  Quincey's 
text.     Well,  Leggett?" 

The  venerable  butler  stood  wheezing  at  his 
elbow.  I  had  not  hitherto  observed  that  the  man 
was  an  asthmatic. 

"I  beg  your  lordship's  pardon,  but  I  think  your 
lordship  must  have  forgotten." 

The  voice  came  in  rude  gasps,  but  words  of 
reproach  could  scarcely  have  achieved  a  finer 
delicacy. 

"Forgotten,  Leggett!  Forgotten  what,  may  I 
ask?" 

"Locking  your  lordship's  dressing-room  door 
behind  your  lordship,  my  lord,"  stuttered  the  un- 
fortunate Leggett,  in  the  short  spurts  of  a  winded 
man,  a  few  stertorous  syllables  at  a  time.  "Been 
up  myself,  my  lord.  Bedroom  door — dressing- 
room  door — both  locked  inside!" 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

But  by  this  time  the  noble  master  was  in  worse 
case  than  the  man.  His  fine  forehead  was  a  tangle 
of  livid  cords;  his  baggy  jowl  filled  out  like  a 
balloon.  In  another  second  he  had  abandoned  his 
place  as  our  host  and  fled  the  room;  and  in  yet 
another  we  had  forgotten  ours  as  his  guests  and 
rushed  headlong  at  his  heels. 

Raffles  was  as  excited  as  any  of  us  now :  he  out- 
stripped us  all.  The  cherubic  little  lawyer  and  I 
had  a  fine  race  for  the  last  place  but  one,  which  I 
secured,  while  the  panting  butler  and  his  satellites 
brought  up  a  respectful  rear.  It  was  our  uncon- 
ventional author,  however,  who  was  the  first  to 
volunteer  his  assistance  and  advice. 

"No  use  pushing,  Thornaby!"  cried  he.  "If 
it's  been  done  with  a  wedge  and  gimlet,  you  may 
smash  the  door,  but  you'll  never  force  it.  Is  there 
a  ladder  in  the  place?" 

"There's  a  rope-ladder  somewhere,  in  case  of 
fire,  I  believe,"  said  my  lord  vaguely,  as  he  rolled 
a  critical  eye  over  our  faces.  "Where  is  it  kept, 
Leggett?" 

"William  will  fetch  it,  my  lord." 

And  a  pair  of  noble  calves  went  flashing  to  the 
upper  regions. 

"What's  the  good  of  bringing  it  down,"  cried 
Parrington,  who  had  thrown  back  to  the  wilds  in 

105 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

his  excitement.  "Let  him  hang  it  out  of  the  win- 
dow above  your  own,  and  let  me  climb  down  and 
do  the  rest !  I'll  undertake  to  have  one  or  other 
of  these  doors  open  in  two  twos  I" 

The  fastened  doors  were  at  right  angles  on 
the  landing  which  we  filled  between  us.  Lord 
Thornaby  smiled  grimly  on  the  rest  of  us,  when 
he  had  nodded  and  dismissed  the  author  like  a 
hound  from  the  leash. 

"It's  a  good  thing  we  know  something  about 
our  friend  Parrington,"  said  my  lord.  "He  takes 
more  kindly  to  all  this  than  I  do,  I  can  tell  you." 

"It's  grist  to  his  mill,"  said  Raffles  charitably. 

"Exactly!  We  shall  have  the  whole  thing  in 
his  next  book." 

"I  hope  to  have  it  at  the  Old  Bailey  first,"  re- 
marked Kingsmill,  Q.C. 

"Refreshing  to  find  a  man  of  letters  such  a  man 
of  action  too!" 

It  was  Raffles  who  said  this,  and  the  remark 
seemed  rather  trite  for  him,  but  in  the  tone  there 
was  a  something  that  just  caught  my  private  ear. 
And  for  once  I  understood:  the  officious  attitude 
of  Parrington,  without  being  seriously  suspicious 
in  itself,  was  admirably  calculated  to  put  a  pre- 
viously suspected  person  in  a  grateful  shade.  This 
literary  adventurer  had  elbowed  Raffles  out  of  the 

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Raffles  was  as  excited  as  any  of  us  now ;  he  outstripped  us  all. 


The  Criminologists'  Club 

limelight,  and  gratitude  for  the  service  was  what 
I  had  detected  in  Raffles's  voice.  No  need  to  say 
how  grateful  I  felt  myself.  But  my  gratitude  was 
shot  with  flashes  of  unwonted  insight.  Parrington 
was  one  of  those  who  suspected  Raffles,  or,  at  all 
events,  one  who  was  in  the  secret  of  those  sus- 
picions. What  if  he  had  traded  on  the  suspect's 
presence  in  the  house?  What  if  he  were  a  deep 
villain  himself,  and  the  villain  of  this  particular 
piece?  I  had  made  up  my  mind  about  him,  and 
that  in  a  tithe  of  the  time  I  take  to  make  it  up 
as  a  rule,  when  we  heard  my  man  in  the  dressing- 
room.  He  greeted  us  with  an  impudent  shout; 
in  a  few  moments  the  door  was  open,  and  there 
stood  Parrington,  flushed  and  dishevelled,  with  a 
gimlet  in  one  hand  and  a  wedge  in  the  other. 

Within  was  a  scene  of  eloquent  disorder. 
Drawers  had  been  pulled  out,  and  now  stood  on 
end,  their  contents  heaped  upon  the  carpet.  Ward- 
robe doors  stood  open;  empty  stud-cases  strewed 
the  floor;  a  clock,  tied  up  in  a  towel,  had  been 
tossed  into  a  chair  at  the  last  moment.  But  a  long 
tin  lid  protruded  from  an  open  cupboard  in  one 
corner.  And  one  had  only  to  see  Lord  Thornaby's 
wry  face  behind  the  lid  to  guess  that  it  was  bent 
over  a  somewhat  empty  tin  trunk. 

"What  a  rum  lot  to  steal !"  said  he,  with   a 

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A  Thief  in  the  Night 

twitch  of  humor  at  the  corners  of  his  canine  mouth. 
"My  peer's  robes,  with  coronet  complete!" 

We  rallied  round  him  in  a  seemly  silence.  I 
thought  our  scribe  would  put  in  his  word.  But 
even  he  either  feigned  or  felt  a  proper  awe. 

"You  may  say  it  was  a  rum  place  to  keep  'em," 
continued  Lord  Thornaby.  "But  where  would 
you  gentlemen  stable  your  white  elephants?  And 
these  were  elephants  as  white  as  snow;  by  Jove, 
I'll  job  them  for  the  future !" 

And  he  made  merrier  over  his  loss  than  any 
of  us  could  have  imagined  the  minute  before;  but 
the  reason  dawned  on  me  a  little  later,  when  we 
all  trooped  down-stairs,  leaving  the  police  in  pos- 
session of  the  theatre  of  crime.  Lord  Thornaby 
linked  arms  with  Raffles  as  he  led  the  way.  His 
step  was  lighter,  his  gayety  no  longer  sardonic; 
his  very  looks  had  improved.  And  I  divined  the 
load  that  had  been  lifted  from  the  hospitable  heart 
of  our  host. 

"I  only  wish,"  said  he,  "that  this  brought  us 
any  nearer  to  the  identity  of  the  gentleman  we 
were  discussing  at  dinner,  for,  of  course,  we  owe 
it  to  all  our  instincts  to  assume  that  it  was  he." 

"I  wonder!"  said  old  Raffles,  with  a  foolhardy 
glance  at  me. 

"But  I'm  sure  of  it,  my  dear  sir,"  cried  my  lord. 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

"The  audacity  is  his  and  his  alone.  I  look  no 
further  than  the  fact  of  his  honoring  me  on  the 
one  night  of  the  year  when  I  endeavor  to  entertain 
my  brother  Criminologists.  That's  no  coincidence, 
sir,  but  a  deliberate  irony,  which  would  have  oc- 
curred to  no  other  criminal  mind  in  England." 

"You  may  be  right,"  Raffles  had  the  sense  to 
say  this  time,  though  I  flattered  myself  it  was  my 
face  that  made  him. 

"What  is  still  more  certain,"  resumed  our  host, 
"is  that  no  other  criminal  in  the  world  would  have 
crowned  so  delicious  a  conception  with  so  perfect 
an  achievement.  I  feel  sure  the  inspector  will 
agree  with  us." 

The  policeman  in  command  had  knocked  and 
been  admitted  to  the  library  as  Lord  Thornaby 
spoke. 

"I  didn't  hear  what  you  said,  my  lord." 

"Merely  that  the  perpetrator  of  this  amusing 
outrage  can  be  no  other  than  the  swell  mobsman 
who  relieved  Lady  Melrose  of  her  necklace  and 
poor  Danby  of  half  his  stock  a  year  or  two  ago." 

"I  believe  your  lordship  has  hit  the  nail  on 
the  head." 

"The  man  who  took  the  Thimblely  diamonds 
and  returned  them  to  Lord  Thimblely,  you 
know." 

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A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Perhaps  he'll  treat  your  lordship  the  same." 

"Not  he!  I  don't  mean  to  cry  over  my  spilt 
milk.  I  only  wish  the  fellow  joy  of  all  he  had 
time  to  take.  Anything  fresh  up-stairs  by  the 
way?" 

"Yes,  my  lord:  the  robbery  took  place  between 
a  quarter  past  eight  and  the  half-hour." 

"How  on  earth  do  you  know?" 

"The  clock  that  was  tied  up  in  the  towel  had 
stopped  at  twenty  past." 

"Have  you  interviewed  my  man?" 

"I  have,  my  lord.  He  was  in  your  lordship's 
room  until  close  on  the  quarter,  and  all  was  as  it 
should  be  when  he  left  it." 

"Then  do  you  suppose  the  burglar  was  in  hiding 
in  the  house?" 

"It's  impossible  to  say,  my  lord.  He's  not  in 
the  house  now,  for  he  could  only  be  in  your  lord- 
ship's bedroom  or  dressing-room,  and  we  have 
searched  every  inch  of  both." 

Lord  Thornaby  turned  to  us  when  the  inspector 
had  retreated,  caressing  his  peaked  cap. 

"I  told  him  to  clear  up  these  points  first,"  he 
explained,  jerking  his  head  toward  the  door.  "I 
had  reason  to  think  my  man  had  been  neglecting 
his  duties  up  there.  I  am  glad  to  find  myself  mis- 
taken." 

no 


The  Criminologists'  Club 

I  ought  to  have  been  no  less  glad  to  see  my 
own  mistake.  My  suspicions  of  our  officious  au- 
thor were  thus  proved  to  have  been  as  wild  as 
himself.  I  owed  the  man  no  grudge,  and  yet  in 
my  human  heart  I  felt  vaguely  disappointed.  My 
theory  had  gained  color  from  his  behavior  ever 
since  he  had  admitted  us  to  the  dressing-room; 
it  had  changed  all  at  once  from  the  familiar  to 
the  morose;  and  only  now  was  I  just  enough  to 
remember  that  Lord  Thornaby,  having  tolerated 
those  familiarities  as  long  as  they  were  connected 
with  useful  service,  had  administered  a  relentless 
snub  the  moment  that  service  had  been  well  and 
truly  performed. 

But  if  Parrington  was  exonerated  in  my  mind, 
so  also  was  Raffles  reinstated  in  the  regard  of  those 
who  had  entertained  a  far  graver  and  more  dan- 
gerous hypothesis.  It  was  a  miracle  of  good  luck, 
a  coincidence  among  coincidences,  which  had  white- 
washed him  in  their  sight  at  the  very  moment  when 
they  were  straining  the  expert  eye  to  sift  him 
through  and  through.  But  the  miracle  had  been 
performed,  and  its  effect  was  visible  in  every  face 
and  audible  in  every  voice.  I  except  Ernest,  who 
could  never  have  been  in  the  secret;  moreover, 
that  gay  Criminologist  had  been  palpably  shaken 
by  his  first  little  experience  of  crime.      But  the 

in 


A  Thief  "in  the  Night 

other  three  vied  among  themselves  to  do  honor 
where  they  had  done  injustice.  I  heard  Kings- 
mill,  Q.C.,  telling  Raffles  the  best  time  to  catch 
him  at  chambers,  and  promising  a  seat  in  court 
for  any  trial  he  might  ever  like  to  hear.  Parring- 
ton  spoke  of  a  presentation  set  of  his  books,  and 
in  doing  homage  to  Raffles  made  his  peace  with  our 
host.  As  for  Lord  Thornaby,  I  did  overhear  the 
name  of  the  Athenaeum  Club,  a  reference  to  his 
friends  on  the  committee,  and  a  whisper  (as  I 
thought)  of  Rule  II. 

The  police  were  still  in  possession  when  we  went 
our  several  ways,  and  it  was  all  that  I  could  do 
to  drag  Raffles  up  to  my  rooms,  though,  as  I  have 
said,  they  were  just  round  the  corner.  He  con- 
sented at  last  as  a  lesser  evil  than  talking  of  the 
burglary  in  the  street ;  and  in  my  rooms  I  told  him 
of  his  late  danger  and  my  own  dilemma,  of  the 
few  words  I  had  overheard  in  the  beginning,  of 
the  thin  ice  on  which  he  had  cut  fancy  figures 
without  a  crack.  It  was  all  very  well  for  him. 
He  had  never  realized  his  peril.  But  let  him 
think  of  me — listening,  watching,  yet  unable  to  lift 
a  finger — unable  to  say  one  warning  word. 

Raffles  suffered  me  to  finish,  but  a  weary  sigh 
followed  the  last  symmetrical  whiff  of  a  Sullivan 
which  he  flung  into  my  fire  before  he  spoke. 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

"No,  I  won't  have  another,  thank  you.  I'm 
going  to  talk  to  you,  Bunny.  Do  you  really  sup- 
pose I  didn't  see  through  these  wiseacres  from  the 
first?" 

I  flatly  refused  to  believe  he  had  done  so  before 
that  evening.  Why  had  he  never  mentioned  his 
idea  to  me?  It  had  been  quite  the  other  way,  as 
I  indignantly  reminded  Raffles.  Did  he  mean  me 
to  believe  he  was  the  man  to  thrust  his  head 
into  the  lion's  mouth  for  fun?  And  what  point 
would  there  be  in  dragging  me  there  to  see  the 
fun? 

"I  might  have  wanted  you,  Bunny.  I  very 
nearly  did." 

"For  my  face?  " 

"It  has  been  my  fortune  before  to-night,  Bunny. 
It  has  also  given  me  more  confidence  than  you  are 
likely  to  believe  at  this  time  of  day.  You  stimu- 
late me  more  than  you  think." 

"Your  gallery  and  your  prompter's  box  in 
one?" 

"Capital,  Bunny!  But  it  was  no  joking  matter 
with  me  either,  my  dear  fellow;  it  was  touch-and- 
go  at  the  time.  I  might  have  called  on  you  at 
any  moment,  and  it  was  something  to  know  I 
should  not  have  called  in  vain." 

"But  what  to  do,  Raffles?" 

"3 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Fight  our  way  out  and  bolt!"  he  answered, 
with  a  mouth  that  meant  it,  and  a  fine  gay  glitter 
of  the  eyes. 

I  shot  out  of  my  chair. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  had  a  hand  in 
the  job?" 

"I  had  the  only  hand  in  it,  my  dear  Bunny." 

"Nonsense!  You  were  sitting  at  table  at  the 
time.  No,  but  you  may  have  taken  some  other 
fellow  into  the  show.  I  always  thought  you 
would!" 

"One's  quite  enough,  Bunny,"  said  Raffles 
dryly;  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  took  out 
another  cigarette.  And  I  accepted  of  yet  another 
from  his  case;  for  it  was  no  use  losing  one's  tem- 
per with  Raffles;  and  his  incredible  statement  was 
not,  after  all,  to  be  ignored. 

"Of  course,"  I  went  on,  "if  you  really  had 
brought  off  this  thing  on  your  own,  I  should  be 
the  last  to  criticise  your  means  of  reaching  such 
an  end.  You  have  not  only  scored  off  a  far 
superior  force,  which  had  laid  itself  out  to  score 
off  you,  but  you  have  put  them  in  the  wrong  about 
you,  and  they'll  eat  out  of  your  hand  for  the  rest 
of  their  days.  But  don't  ask  me  to  believe  that 
you've  done  all  this  alone !  By  George,"  I  cried, 
in  a   sudden  wave  of  enthusiasm,   "I   don't  care 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

how  you've  done  it  or  who  has  helped  you.     It's 
the  biggest  thing  you  ever  did  in  your  life!" 

And  certainly  I  had  never  seen  Raffles  look  more 
radiant,  or  better  pleased  with  the  world  and  him- 
self, or  nearer  that  elation  which  he  usually  left 
to  me. 

"Then  you  shall  hear  all  about  it,  Bunny,  if 
you'll  do  what  I  ask  you." 

"Ask  away,  old  chap,  and  the  thing's  done." 

"Switch  off  the  electric  lights." 

"All  of  them?" 

"I  think  so." 

"There,  then." 

"Now  go  to  the  back  window  and  up  with  the 
blind." 

"Well?" 

"I'm  coming  to  you.  Splendid!  I  never  had 
a  look  so  late  as  this.  It's  the  only  window  left 
alight  in  the  house !" 

His  cheek  against  the  pane,  he  was  pointing 
slightly  downward  and  very  much  aslant  through 
'  a  long  lane  of  mews  to  a  little  square  light  like 
a  yellow  tile  at  the  end.  But  I  had  opened  the 
window  and  leaned  out  before  I  saw  it  for  my- 
self. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that's  Thornaby 
House?" 

ii5 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

I  was  not  familiar  with  the  view  from  my  back 
windows. 

"Of  course  I  do,  you  rabbit !  Have  a  look 
through  your  own  race-glass.  It  has  been  the 
most  useful  thing  of  all." 

But  before  I  had  the  glass  in  focus  more  scales 
had  fallen  from  my  eyes;  and  now  I  knew  why 
I  had  seen  so  much  of  Raffles  these  last  few  weeks, 
and  why  he  had  always  come  between  seven  and 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  waited  at  this 
very  window,  with  these  very  glasses  at  his  eyes. 
I  saw  through  them  sharply  now.  The  one  lighted 
window  pointed  out  by  Raffles  came  tumbling  into 
the  dark  circle  of  my  vision.  I  could  not  see  into 
the  actual  room,  but  the  shadows  of  those  within 
were  quite  distinct  on  the  lowered  blind.  I  even 
thought  a  black  thread  still  dangled  against  the 
square  of  light.  It  was,  it  must  be,  the  window  to 
which  the  intrepid  Parrington  had  descended  from 
the  one  above. 

"Exactly!"  said  Raffles  in  answer  to  my  excla- 
mation. "And  that's  the  window  I  have  been 
watching  these  last  few  weeks.  By  daylight  you 
can  see  the  whole  lot  above  the  ground  floor  on 
this  side  of  the  house;  and  by  good  luck  one  of 
them  is  the  room  in  which  the  master  of  the  house 
arrays  himself  in  all  his  nightly  glory.      It  was 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

easily  spotted  by  watching  at  the  right  time.  I 
saw  him  shaved  one  morning  before  you  were  up ! 
In  the  evening  his  valet  stays  behind  to  put  things 
straight;  and  that  has  been  the  very  mischief.  In 
the  end  I  had  to  find  out  something  about  the  man, 
and  wire  to  him  from  his  girl  to  meet  her  outside 
at  eight  o'clock.  Of  course  he  pretends  he  was 
at  his  post  at  the  time :  that  I  foresaw,  and  did  the 
poor  fellow's  work  before  my  own.  I  folded  and 
put  away  every  garment  before  I  permitted  myself 
to  rag  the  room." 

"I  wonder  you  had  time !" 

"It  took  me  one  more  minute,  and  it  put  the 
clock  on  exactly  fifteen.  By  the  way,  I  did  that 
literally,  of  course,  in  the  case  of  the  clock  they 
found.  It's  an  old  dodge,  to  stop  a  clock  and  alter 
the  time;  but  you  must  admit  that  it  looked  as 
though  one  had  wrapped  it  up  all  ready  to  cart 
away.  There  was  thus  any  amount  of  prima-facie 
evidence  of  the  robbery  having  taken  place  when 
we  were  all  at  table.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Lord 
Thornaby  left  his  dressing-room  one  minute,  his 
valet  followed  him  the  minute  after,  and  I  entered 
the  minute  after  that." 

"Through  the  window?" 

"To  be  sure.  I  was  waiting  below  in  the 
garden.      You   have   to   pay   for  your   garden    in 

117 


A  Thiet  in  the  Night 

town,  in  more  ways  than  one.  You  know  the  wall, 
of  course,  and  that  jolly  old  postern?  The  lock 
was  beneath  contempt." 

"But  what  about  the  window?  It's  on  the  first 
floor,  isn't  it?" 

Raffles  took  up  the  cane  which  he  had  laid  down 
with  his  overcoat.  It  was  a  stout  bamboo  with 
a  polished  ferule.  He  unscrewed  the  ferule,  and 
shook  out  of  the  cane  a  diminishing  series  of 
smaller  canes,  exactly  like  a  child's  fishing-rod, 
which  I  afterward  found  to  have  been  their  former 
state.  A  double  hook  of  steel  was  now  produced 
and  quickly  attached  to  the  tip  of  the  top  joint; 
then  Raffles  undid  three  buttons  of  his  waistcoat; 
and  lapped  round  and  round  his  waist  was  the 
finest  of  Manila  ropes,  with  the  neatest  of  foot- 
loops  at  regular  intervals. 

"Is  it  necessary  to  go  any  further?"  asked 
Raffles  when  he  had  unwound  the  rope.  "This 
end  is  made  fast  to  that  end  of  the  hook,  the 
other  half  of  the  hook  fits  over  anything  that 
comes  its  way,  and  you  leave  your  rod  dangling 
while  you  swarm  up  your  line.  Of  course,  you 
must  know  what  you've  got  to  hook  on  to;  but 
a  man  who  has  had  a  porcelain  bath  fixed  in  his 
dressing-room  is  the  man  for  me.  The  pipes  were 
all  outside,  and  fixed  to  the  wall  in  just  the  right 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

place.  You  see  I  had  made  a  reconnoissance  by 
day  in  addition  to  many  by  night;  it  would  hardly 
have  been  worth  while  constructing  my  ladder  on 
chance." 

"So  you  made  it  on  purpose!" 

"My  dear  Bunny,"  said  Raffles,  as  he  wound 
the  hemp  girdle  round  his  waist  once  more,  "I 
never  did  care  for  ladder  work,  but  I  always  said 
that  if  I  ever  used  a  ladder  it  should  be  the  best 
of  its  kind  yet  invented.  This  one  may  come  in 
useful  again." 

"But  how  long  did  the  whole  thing  take  you?" 

"From  mother  earth  to  mother  earth?  About 
five  minutes,  to-night,  and  one  of  those  was  spent 
in  doing  another  man's  work." 

"What!"  I  cried.  "You  mean  to  tell  me  you 
climbed  up  and  down,  in  and  out,  and  broke  into 
that  cupboard  and  that  big  tin  box,  and  wedged 
up  the  doors  and  cleared  out  with  a  peer's  robes 
and  all  the  rest  of  it  in  five  minutes?" 

"Of  course  I  don't,  and  of  course  I  didn't." 

"Then  what  do  you  mean,  and  what  did 
you  do?" 

"Made  two  bites  at  the  cherry,  Bunny!  I  had 
a  dress  rehearsal  in  the  dead  of  last  night,  and  it 
was  then  I  took  the  swag.  Our  noble  friend  was 
snoring  next  door  all  the  time,  but  the  effort  may 

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A  Thief  in  the  Night 

still  stand  high  among  my  small  exploits,  for  I 
not  only  took  all  I  wanted,  but  left  the  whole 
place  exactly  as  I  found  it,  and  shut  things  after 
me  like  a  good  little  boy.  All  that  took  a  good 
deal  longer;  to-night  I  had  simply  to  rag  the  room 
a  bit,  sweep  up  some  studs  and  links,  and  leave 
ample  evidence  of  having  boned  those  rotten  robes 
to-night.  That,  if  you  come  to  think  of  it,  was 
what  you  writing  chaps  would  call  the  quintes- 
sential Q.E.F.  I  have  not  only  shown  these  dear 
Criminologists  that  I  couldn't  possibly  have  done 
this  trick,  but  that  there's  some  other  fellow  who 
could  and  did,  and  whom  they've  been  perfect  asses 
to  confuse  with  me." 

You  may  figure  me  as  gazing  on  Raffles  all  this 
time  in  mute  and  rapt  amazement.  But  I  had 
long  been  past  that  pitch.  If  he  had  told  me  now 
that  he  had  broken  into  the  Bank  of  England,  or 
the  Tower,  I  should  not  have  disbelieved  him  for 
a  moment.  I  was  prepared  to  go  home  with  him 
to  the  Albany  and  find  the  regalia  under  his  bed. 
And  I  took  down  my  overcoat  as  he  put  on  his. 
But  Raffles  would  not  hear  of  my  accompanying 
him  that  night. 

"No,  my  dear  Bunny,  I  am  short  of  sleep  and 
fed  up  with  excitement.  You  mayn't  believe  it — 
you  may  look  upon  me  as  a   plaster  devil — but 

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The  Criminologists'  Club 

those  five  minutes  you  wot  of  were  rather  too 
crowded  even  for  my  taste.  The  dinner  was 
nominally  at  a  quarter  to  eight,  and  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  now  that  I  counted  on  twice  as  long 
as  I  had.  But  no  one  came  until  twelve  minutes 
to,  and  so  our  host  took  his  time.  I  didn't  want 
to  be  the  last  to  arrive,  and  I  was  in  the  drawing- 
room  five  minutes  before  the  hour.  But  it  was  a 
quicker  thing  than  I  care  about,  when  all  is  said." 
And  his  last  word  on  the  matter,  as  he  nodded 
and  went  his  way,  may  well  be  mine;  for  one  need 
be  no  criminologist,  much  less  a  member  of  the 
Criminologists'  Club,  to  remember  what  Raffles 
did  with  the  robes  and  coronet  of  the  Right  Hon. 
the  Earl  of  Thornaby,  K.G.  He  did  with  them 
exactly  what  he  might  have  been  expected  to  do 
by  the  gentlemen  with  whom  he  had  foregathered; 
and  he  did  it  in  a  manner  so  characteristic  of  him- 
self as  surely  to  remove  from  their  minds  the  last 
aura  of  the  idea  that  he  and  himself  were  the  same 
person.  Carter  Paterson  was  out  of  the  question, 
and  any  labelling  or  addressing  to  be  avoided  on 
obvious  grounds.  But  Raffles  stabled  the  white 
elephants  in  the  cloak-room  at  Charing  Cross — 
and  sent  Lord  Thornaby  the  ticket. 


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The  Field  of  Philippi 

NIPPER  NASMYTH  had  been  head  of  our 
school  when  Raffles  was  captain  of  cricket. 
I  believe  he  owed  his  nickname  entirely  to  the 
popular  prejudice  against  a  day-boy;  and  in  view 
of  the  special  reproach  which  the  term  carried  in 
my  time,  as  also  of  the  fact  that  his  father  was 
one  of  the  school  trustees,  partner  in  a  banking 
firm  of  four  resounding  surnames,  and  manager 
of  the  local  branch,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
the  stigma  was  undeserved.  But  we  did  not  think 
so  then,  for  Nasmyth  was  unpopular  with  high  and 
low,  and  appeared  to  glory  in  the  fact.  A  swollen 
conscience  caused  him  to  see  and  hear  even  more 
than  was  warranted  by  his  position,  and  his  un- 
compromising nature  compelled  him  to  act  on 
whatsoever  he  heard  or  saw:  a  savage  custodian 
of  public  morals,  he  had  in  addition  a  perverse 
enthusiasm  for  lost  causes,  loved  a  minority  for 
its  own  sake,  and  untenable  tenets  for  theirs. 
Such,  at  all  events,  was  my  impression  of  Nipper 
Nasmyth,  after  my  first  term,  which  was  also  his 
last.     I  had  never  spoken  to  him,  but  I  had  heard 

122 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

him  speak  with  extraordinary  force  and  fervor  in 
the  school  debates.  I  carried  a  clear  picture  of  his 
unkempt  hair,  his  unbrushed  coat,  his  dominant 
spectacles,  his  dogmatic  jaw.  And  it  was  I  who 
knew  the  combination  at  a  glance,  after  years  and 
years,  when  the  fateful  whim  seized  Raffles  to  play 
once  more  in  the  Old  Boys'  Match,  and  his  will 
took  me  down  with  him  to  participate  in  the  milder 
festivities  of  Founder's  Day. 

It  was,  however,  no  ordinary  occasion.  The 
bicentenary  loomed  but  a  year  ahead,  and  a  move- 
ment was  on  foot  to  mark  the  epoch  with  an  ade- 
quate statue  of  our  pious  founder.  A  special 
meeting  was  to  be  held  at  the  school-house,  and 
Raffles  had  been  specially  invited  by  the  new  head 
master,  a  man  of  his  own  standing,  who  had  been 
in  the  eleven  with  him  up  at  Cambridge.  Raffles 
had  not  been  near  the  old  place  for  years;  but  I 
had  never  gone  down  since  the  day  I  left;  and  I 
will  not  dwell  on  the  emotions  which  the  once 
familiar  journey  awakened  in  my  unworthy  bosom. 
Paddington  was  alive  with  Old  Boys  of  all  ages 
— but  very  few  of  ours — if  not  as  lively  as  we 
used  to  make  it  when  we  all  landed  back  for  the 
holidays.  More  of  us  had  moustaches  and  ciga- 
rettes and  "loud"  ties.  That  was  all.  Yet  of  the 
throng,   though   two   or   three   looked   twice   and 

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A  Thief  in  the  Night 

thrice  at  Raffles,  neither  he  nor  I  knew  a  soul  until 
we  had  to  change  at  the  junction  near  our  jour- 
ney's end,  when,  as  I  say,  it  was  I  who  recognized 
Nipper  Nasmyth  at  sight. 

The  man  was  own  son  of  the  boy  we  both  re- 
membered. He  had  grown  a  ragged  beard  and 
a  moustache  that  hung  about  his  face  like  a  neg- 
lected creeper.  He  was  stout  and  bent  and  older 
than  his  years.  But  he  spurned  the  platform  with 
a  stamping  stride  which  even  I  remembered  in  an 
instant,  and  which  was  enough  for  Raffles  before 
he  saw  the  man's  face. 

"The  Nipper  it  is!"  he  cried.  "I  could  swear 
to  that  walk  in  a  pantomime  procession !  See  the 
independence  in  every  step :  that's  his  heel  on  the 
neck  of  the  oppressor:  it's  the  nonconformist  con- 
science in  baggy  breeches.  I  must  speak  to  him, 
Bunny.  There  was  a  lot  of  good  in  the  old  Nip- 
per, though  he  and  I  did  bar  each  other." 

And  in  a  moment  he  had  accosted  the  man  by 
the  boy's  nickname,  obviously  without  thinking  of 
an  affront  which  few  would  have  read  in  that 
hearty  open  face  and  hand. 

"My  name's  Nasmyth,"  snapped  the  other, 
standing  upright  to  glare. 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Raffles  undeterred.  "One 
remembers  a  nickname  and  forgets  all  it  never  used 

124 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

to  mean.      Shake  hands,  my  dear  fellow!      I'm 
Raffles.    It  must  be  fifteen  years  since  we  met." 

"At  least,"  replied  Nasmyth  coldly;  but  he 
could  no  longer  refuse  Raffles  his  hand.  "So  you 
are  going  down,"  he  sneered,  "to  this  great  gath- 
ering?" And  I  stood  listening  at  my  distance, 
as  though  still  in  the  middle  fourth. 

"Rather!"  cried  Raffles.  "I'm  afraid  I  have 
let  myself  lose  touch,  but  I  mean  to  turn  over  a 
new  leaf.  I  suppose  that  isn't  necessary  in  your 
case,  Nasmyth?" 

He  spoke  with  an  enthusiasm  rare  indeed  in  him : 
it  had  grown  upon  Raffles  in  the  train;  the  spirit 
of  his  boyhood  had  come  rushing  back  at  fifty 
miles  an  hour.  He  might  have  been  following 
some  honorable  calling  in  town;  he  might  have 
snatched  this  brief  respite  from  a  distinguished 
but  exacting  career.  I  am  convinced  that  it  was 
I  alone  who  remembered  at  that  moment  the  life 
we  were  really  leading  at  that  time.  With  me 
there  walked  this  skeleton  through  every  waking 
hour  that  was  to  follow.  I  shall  endeavor  not 
to  refer  to  it  again.  Yet  it  should  not  be  forgotten 
that  my  skeleton  was  always  there. 

"It  certainly  is  not  necessary  in  my  case,"  re- 
plied Nasmyth,  still  as  stiff  as  any  poker.  "I 
happen  to  be  a  trustee." 

125 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Of  the  school  ?" 

"Like  my  father  before  me." 

"I  congratulate  you,  my  dear  fellow !"  cried  the 
hearty  Raffles — a  younger  Raffles  than  I  had  ever 
known  in  town. 

"I  don't  know  that  you  need,"  said  Nasmyth 
sourly. 

"But  it  must  be  a  tremendous  interest.  And 
the  proof  is  that  you're  going  down  to  this  show, 
like  all  the  rest  of  us." 

"No,  I'm  not.    I  live  there,  you  see." 

And  I  think  the  Nipper  recalled  that  name  as 
he  ground  his  heel  upon  an  unresponsive  flagstone. 

"But  you're  going  to  this  meeting  at  the  school- 
house,  surely?" 

"I  don't  know.  If  I  do  there  may  be  squalls. 
I  don't  know  what  you  think  about  this  precious 
scheme  Raffles,  but  /     .     .     ." 

The  ragged  beard  stuck  out,  set  teeth  showed 
through  the  wild  moustache,  and  in  a  sudden  out- 
pouring we  had  his  views.  They  were  narrow  and 
intemperate  and  perverse  as  any  I  had  heard  him 
advocate  as  the  firebrand  of  the  Debating  Society 
in  my  first  term.  But  they  were  stated  with  all 
the  old  vim  and  venom.  The  mind  of  Nasmyth 
had  not  broadened  with  the  years,  but  neither  had 
its  natural  force  abated,  nor  that  of  his  character 

126 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

either.  He  spoke  with  great  vigor  at  the  top  of 
his  voice;  soon  we  had  a  little  crowd  about  us; 
hut  the  tall  collars  and  the  broad  smiles  of  the 
younger  Old  Boys  did  not  deter  our  dowdy  dema- 
gogue. Why  spend  money  on  a  man  who  had 
been  dead  two  hundred  years?  What  good  could 
it  do  him  or  the  school?  Besides,  he  was  only 
technicallv  our  founder.  He  had  not  founded  a 
great  public  school.  He  had  founded  a  little 
country  grammar  school  which  had  pottered  along 
for  a  century  and  a  half.  The  great  public  school 
was  the  growth  of  the  last  fifty  years,  and  no  credit 
to  the  pillar  of  piety.  Besides,  he  was  only  nomi- 
nally pious.  Nasmyth  had  made  researches,  and 
he  knew.  And  why  throw  good  money  after  a 
bad  man? 

"Are  there  many  of  your  opinion?"  inquired 
Raffles,  when  the  agitator  paused  for  breath.  And 
Nasmyth  beamed  on  us  with  flashing  eyes. 

"Not  one  to  my  knowledge  as  yet,"  said  he. 
"But  we  shall  see  after  to-morrow  night.  I  hear 
it's  to  be  quite  an  exceptional  gathering  this  year; 
let  us  hope  it  may  contain  a  few  sane  men.  There 
are  none  on  the  present  staff,  and  I  only  know  of 
one  among  the  trustees !" 

Raffles  refrained-  from  smiling  as  his  dancing 
eye  met  mine. 

127 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"I  can  understand  your  view,"  he  said.  "I  am 
not  sure  that  I  don't  share  it  to  some  extent.  But 
it  seems  to  me  a  duty  to  support  a  general 
movement  like  this  even  if  it  doesn't  take  the 
direction  or  the  shape  of  our  own  dreams.  I 
suppose  you  yourself  will  give  something,  Nas- 
myth?" 

"Give  something?  I?  Not  a  brass  farthing!" 
cried  the  implacable  banker.  "To  do  so  would 
be  to  stultify  my  whole  position.  I  cordially  and 
conscientiously  disapprove  of  the  whole  thing,  and 
shall  use  all  my  influence  against  it.  No,  my  good 
sir,  I  not  only  don't  subscribe  myself,  but  I  hope 
to  be  the  means  of  nipping  a  good  many  subscrip- 
tions in  the  bud." 

I  was  probably  the  only  one  who  saw  the 
sudden  and  yet  subtle  change  in  Raffles — the  hard 
mouth,  the  harder  eye.  I,  at  least,  might  have 
foreseen  the  sequel  then  and  there.  But  his  quiet 
voice  betrayed  nothing,  as  he  inquired  whether 
Nasmyth  was  going  to  speak  at  next  night's  meet- 
ing. Nasmyth  said  he  might,  and  certainly  warned 
us  what  to  expect.  He  was  still  fulminating  when 
our  train  came  in. 

II  Then  we  meet  again  at  Philippi,"  cried  Raf- 
fles in  gay  adieu.  "For  you  have  been  very  frank 
with  us  all,  Nasmyth,  and  I'll  be  frank  enough  in 

128 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

my  turn  to  tell  you  that  I've  every  intention  of 
speaking  on  the  other  side!" 

It  happened  that  Raffles  had  been  asked  to  speak 
by  his  old  college  friend,  the  new  head  master. 
Yet  it  was  not  at  the  school-house  that  he  and  I 
were  to  stay,  but  at  the  house  that  we  had  both 
been  in  as  boys.  It  also  had  changed  hands :  a 
wing  had  been  added,  and  the  double  tier  of  tiny 
studies  made  brilliant  with  electric  light.  But  the 
quad  and  the  fives-courts  did  not  look  a  day  older; 
the  ivy  was  no  thicker  round  the  study  windows; 
and  in  one  boy's  castle  we  found  the  traditional 
print  of  Charing  Cross  Bridge  which  had  knocked 
about  our  studies  ever  since  a  son  of  the  contractor 
first  sold  it  when  he  left.  Nay,  more,  there  was 
the  bald  remnant  of  a  stuffed  bird  which  had  been 
my  own  daily  care  when  it  and  I  belonged  to 
Raffles.  And  when  we  all  filed  in  to  prayers, 
through  the  green  baize  door  which  still  separated 
the  master's  part  of  the  house  from  that  of  the 
boys,  there  was  a  small  boy  posted  in  the  passage 
to  give  the  sign  of  silence  to  the  rest  assembled 
in  the  hall,  quite  identically  as  in  the  dim  old  days; 
the  picture  was  absolutely  unchanged;  it  was  only 
we  who  were  out  of  it  in  body  and  soul. 

On  our  side  of  the  baize  door  a  fine  hospitality 
and  a  finer  flow  of  spirits  were  the  order  of  the 

129 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

night.  There  was  a  sound  representative  assort- 
ment of  quite  young  Old  Boys,  to  whom  ours  was 
a  prehistoric  time,  and  in  the  trough  of  their  mod- 
ern chaff  and  chat  we  old  stagers  might  well  have 
been  left  far  astern  of  the  fun.  Yet  it  was  Raffles 
who  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  party,  and  that 
not  by  meretricious  virtue  of  his  cricket.  There 
happened  not  to  be  another  cricketer  among  us, 
and  it  was  on  their  own  subjects  that  Raffles 
laughed  with  the  lot  in  turn  and  in  the  lump.  I 
never  knew  him  in  quite  such  form.  I  will  not 
say  he  was  a  boy  among  them,  but  he  was  that 
rarer  being,  the  man  of  the  world  who  can  enter 
absolutely  into  the  fun  and  fervor  of  the  salad  age. 
My  cares  and  my  regrets  had  never  been  more 
acute,  but  Raffles  seemed  a  man  without  either  in 
his  life. 

He  was  not,  however,  the  hero  of  the  Old 
Boys'  Match,  and  that  was  expected  of  him  by 
all  the  school.  There  was  a  hush  when  he  went 
in,  a  groan  when  he  came  out.  I  had  no  reason 
to  suppose  he  was  not  trying;  these  things  happen 
to  the  cricketer  who  plays  out  of  his  class;  but 
when  the  great  Raffles  went  on  to  bowl,  and  was 
hit  all  over  the  field,  I  was  not  so  sure.  It  certainly 
failed  to  affect  his  spirits;  he  was  more  brilliant 
than  ever  at  our  hospitable  board;  and  after  dinner 

130 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

came  the  meeting  at  which  he  and  Nasmyth  were 
to  speak. 

It  was  a  somewhat  frigid  gathering  until  Nas- 
myth rose.  We  had  all  dined  with  our  respective 
hosts,  and  then  repaired  to  this  business  in  cold 
blood.  Many  were  lukewarm  about  it  in  their 
hearts;  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  mild  preju- 
dice, and  a  greater  amount  of  animal  indifference, 
to  be  overcome  in  the  opening  speech.  It  is  not  for 
me  to  say  whether  this  was  successfully  accom- 
plished. I  only  know  how  the  temperature  of  that 
meeting  rose  with  Nipper  Nasmyth. 

And  I  dare  say,  in  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  his  really  was  a  rather  vulgar  speech.  But 
it  was  certainly  impassioned,  and  probably  as 
purely  instinctive  as  his  denunciation  of  all  the 
causes  which  appeal  to  the  gullible  many  without 
imposing  upon  the  cantankerous  few.  His  argu- 
ments, it  is  true,  were  merely  an  elaboration  of 
those  with  which  he  had  favored  some  of  us 
already;  but  they  were  pointed  by  a  concise  exposi- 
tion of  the  several  definite  principles  they  repre- 
sented, and  barbed  with  a  caustic  rhetoric  quite 
admirable  in  itself.  In  a  word,  the  manner  was 
worthy  of  the  very  foundation  it  sought  to  shake, 
or  we  had  never  swallowed  such  matter  without  a 
murmur.     As  it  was,  there  was  a  demonstration 

131 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

in  the  wilderness  when  the  voice  ceased  crying. 
But  we  sat  in  the  deeper  silence  when  Raffles  rose 
to  reply. 

I  leaned  forward  not  to  lose  a  word.  I  knew 
my  Raffles  so  well  that  I  felt  almost  capable  of 
reporting  his  speech  before  I  heard  it.  Never  was 
I  more  mistaken,  even  in  him !  So  far  from  a  gibe 
for  a  gibe  and  a  taunt  for  a  taunt,  there  never  was 
softer  answer  than  that  which  A.  J.  Raffles  returned 
to  Nipper  Nasmyth  before  the  staring  eyes  and 
startled  ears  of  all  assembled.  He  courteously  but 
firmly  refused  to  believe  a  word  his  old  friend  Nas- 
myth had  said — about  himself.  He  had  known 
Nasmyth  for  twenty  years,  and  never  had  he  met 
a  dog  who  barked  so  loud  and  bit  so  little.  The 
fact  was  that  he  had  far  too  kind  a  heart  to  bite 
at  all.  Nasmyth  might  get  up  and  protest  as  loud 
as  he  liked :  the  speaker  declared  he  knew  him  bet- 
ter than  Nasmyth  knew  himself.  He  had  the  nec- 
essary defects  of  his  great  qualities.  He  was  only 
too  good  a  sportsman.  He  had  a  perfect  passion 
for  the  weaker  side.  That  alone  led  Nasmyth  into 
such  excesses  of  language  as  we  had  all  heard  from 
his  lips  that  night.  As  for  Raffles,  he  concluded  his 
far  too  genial  remarks  by  predicting  that,  what- 
ever Nasmyth  might  say  or  think  of  the  new  fund, 
he  would  subscribe  to  it  as  handsomely  as  any  of 

132 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

us,  like  "the  generous  good  chap"  that  we  all  knew 
him  to  be. 

Even  so  did  Raffles  disappoint  the  Old  Boys  in 
the  evening  as  he  had  disappointed  the  school  by 
day.  We  had  looked  to  him  for  a  noble  raillery,  a 
lofty  and  loyal  disdain,  and  he  had  fobbed  us  off 
with  friendly  personalities  not  even  in  impeccable 
taste.  Nevertheless,  this  light  treatment  of  a  grave 
offence  went  far  to  restore  the  natural  amenities  of 
the  occasion.  It  was  impossible  even  for  Nasmyth 
to  reply  to  it  as  he  might  to  a  more  earnest  on- 
slaught. He  could  but  smile  sardonically,  and 
audibly  undertake  to  prove  Raffles  a  false  prophet; 
and  though  subsequent  speakers  were  less  merciful 
the  note  was  struck,  and  there  was  no  more  bad 
blood  in  the  debate.  There  was  plenty,  however, 
in  the  veins  of  Nasmyth,  as  I  was  to  discover  for 
myself  before  the  night  was  out. 

You  might  think  that  in  the  circumstances  he 
would  not  have  attended  the  head  master's  ball 
with  which  the  evening  ended;  but  that  would  be 
sadly  to  misjudge  so  perverse  a  creature  as  the 
notorious  Nipper.  He  was  probably  one  of  those 
who  protest  that  there  is  "nothing  personal"  in 
their  most  personal  attacks.  Not  that  Nasmyth 
took  this  tone  about  Raffles  when  he  and  I  found 
ourselves  cheek  by  jowl  against  the  ballroom  wall; 

133 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

he  could  forgive  his  franker  critics,  but  not  the 
friendly  enemy  who  had  treated  him  so  much  more 
gently  than  he  deserved. 

"I  seem  to  have  seen  you  with  this  great  man 
Raffles,"  began  Nasmyth,  as  he  overhauled  me  with 
his  fighting  eye.     "Do  you  know  him  well?" 

"Intimately." 

"I  remember  now.  You  were  with  him  when 
he  forced  himself  upon  me  on  the  way  down  yester- 
day. He  had  to  tell  me  who  he  was.  Yet  he 
talks  as  though  we  were  old  friends." 

"You  were  in  the  upper  sixth  together,"  I  re- 
joined, nettled  by  his  tone. 

"What  does  that  matter?  I  am  glad  to  say  I 
had  too  much  self-respect,  and  too  little  respect  for 
Raffles,  ever  to  be  a  friend  of  his  then.  I  knew 
too  many  of  the  things  he  did,"  said  Nipper  Nas- 
myth. 

His  fluent  insults  had  taken  my  breath.  But 
in  a  lucky  flash  I  saw  my  retort. 

"You  must  have  had  special  opportunities  of 
observation,  living  in  the  town,"  said  I;  and  drew 
first  blood  between  the  long  hair  and  the  ragged 
beard;  but  that  was  all. 

"So  he  really  did  get  out  at  nights?"  remarked 
my  adversary.  "You  certainly  give  your  friend 
away.     What's  he  doing  now?" 

134 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

I  let  my  eyes  follow  Raffles  round  the  room 
before  replying.  He  was  waltzing  with  a  master's 
wife — waltzing  as  he  did  everything  else.  Other 
couples  seemed  to  melt  before  them.  And  the 
woman  on  his  arm  looked  a  radiant  girl. 

"I  meant  in  town,  or  wherever  he  lives  his  mys- 
terious life,"  explained  Nasmyth,  when  I  told  him 
that  he  could  see  for  himself.  But  his  clever 
tone  did  not  trouble  me;  it  was  his  epithet  that 
caused  me  to  prick  my  ears.  And  I  found  some 
difficulty  in  following  Raffles  right  round  the  room. 

"I  thought  everybody  knew  what  he  was  doing; 
he's  playing  cricket  most  of  his  time,"  was  my 
measured  reply;  and  if  it  bore  an  extra  touch  of 
insolence,  I  can  honestly  ascribe  that  to  my  nerves. 

"And  is  that  all  he  does  for  a  living?"  pursued 
my  inquisitor  keenly. 

"You  had  better  ask  Raffles  himself,"  said  I  to 
that.  "It's  a  pity  you  didn't  ask  him  in  public,  at 
the  meeting!" 

But  I  was  beginning  to  show  temper  in  my 
embarrassment,  and  of  course  that  made  Nasmyth 
the  more  imperturbable. 

"Really,  he  might  be  following  some  disgraceful 
calling,  by  the  mystery  you  make  of  it!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "And  for  that  matter  I  call  first-class 
cricket  a  disgraceful  calling,  when  it's  followed  by 

135 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

men  who  ought  to  be  gentlemen,  but  are  really 
professionals  in  gentlemanly  clothing.  The  pres- 
ent craze  for  gladiatorial  athleticism  I  regard  as 
one  of  the  great  evils  of  the  age;  but  the  thinly 
veiled  professionalism  of  the  so-called  amateur  is 
the  greatest  evil  of  that  craze.  Men  play  for  the 
gentlemen  and  are  paid  more  than  the  players  who 
walk  out  of  another  gate.  In  my  time  there  was 
none  of  that.  Amateurs  were  amateurs  and  sport 
was  sport;  there  were  no  Raffleses  in  first-class 
cricket  then.  I  had  forgotten  Raffles  was  a  modern 
first-class  cricketer:  that  explains  him.  Rather 
than  see  my  son  such  another,  do  you  know  what 
I'd  prefer  to  see  him?" 

I  neither  knew  nor  cared:  yet  a  wretched  pre- 
monitory fascination  held  me  breathless  till  I  was 
told. 

"I'd  prefer  to  see  him  a  thief!"  said  Nasmyth 
savagely;  and  when  his  eyes  were  done  with  me, 
he  turned  upon  his  heel.  So  that  ended  that  stage 
of  my  discomfiture. 

It  was  only  to  give  place  to  a  worse.  Was 
all  this  accident  or  fell  design?  Conscience  had 
made  a  coward  of  me,  and  yet  what  reason  had  I 
to  disbelieve  the  worst?  We  were  pirouetting  on 
the  edge  of  an  abyss ;  sooner  or  later  the  false  step 
must  come  and  the  pit  swallow  us.     I  began  to 

136 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

wish  myself  back  in  London,  and  I  did  get  back 
to  my  room  in  our  old  house.  My  dancing  days 
were  already  over;  there  I  had  taken  the  one  reso- 
lution to  which  I  remained  as  true  as  better  men  to 
better  vows;  there  the  painful  association  was  no 
mere  sense  of  personal  unworthiness.  I  fell  to 
thinking  in  my  room  of  other  dances  .  .  .  and 
was  still  smoking  the  cigarette  which  Raffles  had 
taught  me  to  appreciate  when  I  looked  up  to  find 
him  regarding  me  from  the  door.  He  had  opened 
it  as  noiselessly  as  only  Raffles  could  open  doors, 
and  now  he  closed  it  in  the  same  professional 
fashion. 

"I  missed  Achilles  hours  ago,"  said  he.  "And 
still  he's  sulking  in  his  tent!" 

"I  have  been,"  I  answered,  laughing  as  he  could 
always  make  me,  "but  I'll  chuck  it  if  you'll  stop 
and  smoke.  Our  host  doesn't  mind;  there's  an 
ash-tray  provided  for  the  purpose.  I  ought  to  be 
sulking  between  the  sheets,  but  I'm  ready  to  sit 
up  with  you  till  morning." 

"We  might  do  worse;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  might  do  still  better,"  rejoined  Raffles,  and 
for  once  he  resisted  the  seductive  Sullivan.  "As 
a  matter  of  fact,  it's  morning  now;  in  another  hour 
it  will  be  dawn ;  and  where  could  day  dawn  better 
than  in  Warfield  Woods,   or  along  the  Stockley 

137 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

road,  or  even  on  the  Upper  or  the  Middle?  I 
don't  want  to  turn  in,  any  more  than  you  do.  I 
may  as  well  confess  that  the  whole  show  down 
here  has  exalted  me  more  than  anything  for  years. 
But  if  we  can't  sleep,  Bunny,  let's  have  some  fresh 
air  instead." 

"Has  everybody  gone  to  bed?"  I  asked. 

"Long  ago.     I  was  the  last  in.     Why?" 

"Only  it  might  sound  a  little  odd,  our  turning 
out  again,  if  they  were  to  hear  us." 

Raffles  stood  over  me  with  a  smile  made  of 
mischief  and  cunning;  but  it  was  the  purest  mis- 
chief imaginable,  the  most  innocent  and  comic  cun- 
ning. 

"They  shan't  hear  us  at  all,  Bunny,"  said  he. 
"I  mean  to  get  out  as  I  did  in  the  good  old  nights. 
I've  been  spoiling  for  the  chance  ever  since  I  came 
down.  There's  not  the  smallest  harm  in  it  now; 
and  if  you'll  come  with  me  I'll  show  you  how  it 
used  to  be  done." 

"But  I  know,"  said  I.  "Who  used  to  haul  up 
the  rope  after  you,  and  let  it  down  again  to  the 
minute?" 

Raffles  looked  down  on  me  from  lowered  lids, 
over  a  smile  too  humorous  to  offend. 

"My  dear  good  Bunny!  And  do  you  suppose 
that  even  then  I  had  only  one  way  of  doing  a 

138 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

thing?  I've  had  a  spare  loophole  all  my  life,  and 
when  you're  ready  I'll  show  you  what  it  was  when 
I  was  here.  Take  off  those  boots,  and  carry  your 
tennis-shoes;  slip  on  another  coat;  put  out  your 
light;  and  I'll  meet  you  on  the  landing  in  two 
minutes." 

He  met  me  with  uplifted  finger,  and  not  a 
syllable;  and  down-stairs  he  led  me,  stocking  soles 
close  against  the  skirting,  two  feet  to  each  particu- 
lar step.  It  must  have  seemed  child's  play  to  Raf- 
fles; the  old  precautions  were  obviously  assumed 
for  my  entertainment;  but  I  confess  that  to  me  it 
was  all  refreshingly  exciting — for  once  without  a 
risk  of  durance  if  we  came  to  grief !  With  scarcely 
a  creak  we  reached  the  hall,  and  could  have  walked 
out  of  the  street  door  without  danger  or  difficulty. 
But  that  would  not  do  for  Raffles.  He  must  needs 
lead  me  into  the  boys'  part,  through  the  green 
baize  door.  It  took  a  deal  of  opening  and  shut- 
ting, but  Raffles  seemed  to  enjoy  nothing  better 
than  these  mock  obstacles,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
we  were  resting  with  sharp  ears  in  the  boys' 
hall. 

"Through  these  windows?"  I  whispered,  when 
the  clock  over  the  piano  had  had  matters  its  own 
way  long  enough  to  make  our  minds  quite  easy. 

"How  else?"  whispered  Raffles,  as  he  opened 

139 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

the  one  on  whose  ledge  our  letters  used  to  await  us 
of  a  morning. 

"And  then  through  the  quad " 

"And  over  the  gates  at  the  end.  No  talking, 
Bunny;  there's  a  dormitory  just  overhead;  but  ours 
was  in  front,  you  remember,  and  if  they  had  ever 
seen  me  I  should  have  nipped  back  this  way  while 
they  were  watching  the  other." 

His  finger  was  on  his  lips  as  we  got  out  softly 
into  the  starlight.  I  remember  how  the  gravel 
hurt  as  we  left  the  smooth  flagged  margin  of  the 
house  for  the  open  quad;  but  the  nearer  of  two 
long  green  seats  (whereon  you  prepared  your  con- 
strue for  the  second-school  in  the  summer  term) 
was  mercifully  handy;  and  once  in  our  rubber  soles 
we  had  no  difficulty  in  scaling  the  gates  beyond  the 
fives-courts.  Moreover,  we  dropped  into  a  very 
desert  of  a  country  road,  nor  saw  a  soul  when  we 
doubled  back  beneath  the  outer  study  windows, 
nor  heard  a  footfall  in  the  main  street  of  the  slum- 
bering town.  Our  own  fell  like  the  night-dews 
and  the  petals  of  the  poet;  but  Raffles  ran  his  arm 
through  mine,  and  would  chatter  in  whispers  as 
we  went. 

"So  you  and  Nipper  had  a  word — or  was  it 
words  ?  I  saw  you  out  of  the  tail  of  my  eye  when 
I  was  dancing,  and  I  heard  you  out  of  the  tail  of 

140 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

my  ear.  It  sounded  like  words,  Bunny,  and  I 
thought  I  caught  my  name.  He's  the  most  con- 
sistent man  I  know,  and  the  least  altered  from  a 
boy.  But  he'll  subscribe  all  right,  you'll  see,  and 
be  very  glad  I  made  him." 

I  whispered  back  that  I  did  not  believe  it  for 
a  moment.  Raffles  had  not  heard  all  Nasmyth 
had  said  of  him.  And  neither  would  he  listen  to 
the  little  I  meant  to  repeat  to  him;  he  would  but 
reiterate  a  conviction  so  chimerical  to  my  mind  that 
I  interrupted  in  my  turn  to  ask  him  what  ground 
he  had  for  it. 

"I've  told  you  already,"  said  Raffles.  "I  mean 
to  make  him." 

"But  how  ?"  I  asked.    "And  when,  and  where  ?" 

"At  Philippi,  Bunny,  where  I  said  I'd  see  him. 
What  a  rabbit  you  are  at  a  quotation  ! 

"  'And  I  think  that  the  field  of  Philippi 
Was  where  Caesar  came  to  an  end ; 
But  who  gave  old  Brutus  the  tip,  I 
Can't  comprehend !' 

"You  may  have  forgotten  your  Shakespeare, 
Bunny,  but  you  ought  to  remember  that." 

And  I  did,  vaguely,  but  had  no  idea  what  it  or 
Raffles  meant,  as  I  plainly  told  him. 

"The  theatre  of  war,"  he  answered — "and  here 
we  are  at  the  stage  door!" 

141 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

Raffles  had  stopped  suddenly  in  his  walk.  It 
was  the  last  dark  hour  of  the  summer  night,  but 
the  light  from  a  neighboring  lamppost  showed  me 
the  look  on  his  face  as  he  turned. 

"I  think  you  also  inquired  when,"  he  continued. 
"Well,  then,  this  minute — if  you  will  give  me  a 
leg  up!" 

And  behind  him,  scarcely  higher  than  his  head, 
and  not  even  barred,  was  a  wide  window  with  a 
wire  blind,  and  the  name  of  Nasmyth  among  others 
lettered  in  gold  upon  the  wire. 

"You're  never  going  to  break  in?" 

"This  instant,  if  you'll  help  me;  in  five  or  ten 
minutes,  if  you  won't." 

"Surely  you  didn't  bring  the — the  tools?" 

He  jingled  them  gently  in  his  pocket. 

"Not  the  whole  outfit,  Bunny.  But  you  never 
know  when  you  mayn't  want  one  or  two.  I'm  only 
thankful  I  didn't  leave  the  lot  behind  this  time.  I 
very  nearly  did." 

"I  must  say  I  thought  you  would,  coming  down 
here,"  I  said  reproachfully. 

"But  you  ought  to  be  glad  I  didn't,"  he  rejoined 
with  a  smile.  "It's  going  to  mean  old  Nasmyth's 
subscription  to  the  Founder's  Fund,  and  that's  to 
be  a  big  one,  I  promise  you !  The  lucky  thing  is 
that  I  went  so  far  as  to  bring  my  bunch  of  safe- 

142 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

keys.  Now,  are  you  going  to  help  me  use  them,  or 
are  you  not?  If  so,  now's  your  minute;  if  not, 
clear  out  and  be " 

"Not  so  fast,  Raffles,"  said  I  testily.  "You 
must  have  planned  this  before  you  came  down, 
or  you  would  never  have  brought  all  those  things 
with  you." 

"My  dear  Bunny,  they're  a  part  of  my  kit!  I 
take  them  wherever  I  take  my  evening-clothes.  As 
to  this  potty  bank,  I  never  even  thought  of  it, 
much  less  that  it  would  become  a  public  duty  to 
draw  a  hundred  or  so  without  signing  for  it. 
That's  all  I  shall  touch,  Bunny — I'm  not  on  the 
make  to-night.  There's  no  risk  in  it  either.  If  I 
am  caught  I  shall  simply  sham  champagne  and 
stand  the  racket;  it  would  be  an  obvious  frolic  after 
what  happened  at  that  meeting.  And  they  will 
catch  me,  if  I  stand  talking  here :  you  run  away 
back  to  bed — unless  you're  quite  determined  to 
'give  old  Brutus  the  tip !'  " 

Now  we  had  barely  been  a  minute  whispering 
where  we  stood,  and  the  whole  street  was  still  as 
silent  as  the  tomb.  To  me  there  seemed  least 
danger  in  discussing  the  matter  quietly  on  the  spot. 
But  even  as  he  gave  me  my  dismissal  Raffles  turned 
and  caught  the  sill  above  him,  first  with  one  hand 
and  then  with  the  other.     His  legs  swung  like  a 

143 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

pendulum  as  he  drew  himself  up  with  one  arm, 
then  shifted  the  position  of  the  other  hand,  and 
very  gradually  worked  himself  waist-high  with  the 
sill.  But  the  sill  was  too  narrow  for  him;  that 
was  as  far  as  he  could  get  unaided;  and  it  was 
as  much  as  I  could  bear  to  see  of  a  feat  which 
in  itself  might  have  hardened  my  conscience  and 
softened  my  heart.  But  I  had  identified  his  dog- 
gerel verse  at  last.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  it 
was  part  of  a  set  of  my  very  own  writing  in  the 
school  magazine  of  my  time.  So  Raffles  knew  the 
stuff  better  than  I  did  myself,  and  yet  scorned  to 
press  his  flattery  to  win  me  over!  He  had  won 
me :  in  a  second  my  rounded  shoulders  were  a  pedes- 
tal for  those  dangling  feet.  And  before  many 
more  I  heard  the  old  metallic  snap,  followed  by 
the  raising  of  a  sash  so  slowly  and  gently  as  to  be 
almost  inaudible  to  me  listening  just  below. 

Raffles  went  through  hands  first,  disappeared  for 
an  instant,  then  leaned  out,  lowering  his  hands 
for  me. 

"Come  on,  Bunny!  You're  safer  in  than  out. 
Hang  on  to  the  sill  and  let  me  get  you  under  the 
arms.  Now  all  together — quietly  does  it — and 
over  you  come!" 

No  need  to  dwell  on  our  proceedings  in  the 
bank.    I  myself  had  small  part  in  the  scene,  being 

144 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

posted  rather  in  the  wings,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
leading  to  the  private  premises  in  which  the  mana- 
ger had  his  domestic  being.  But  I  made  my  mind 
easy  about  him,  for  in  the  silence  of  my  watch  I 
soon  detected  a  nasal  note  overhead,  and  it  was 
resonant  and  aggressive  as  the  man  himself.  Of 
Raffles,  on  the  contrary,  I  heard  nothing,  for  he 
had  shut  the  door  between  us,  and  I  was  to  warn 
him  if  a  single  sound  came  through.  I  need 
scarcely  add  that  no  warning  was  necessary  during 
the  twenty  minutes  we  remained  in  the  bank.  Raf- 
fles afterward  assured  me  that  nineteen  of  them 
had  been  spent  in  filing  one  key;  but  one  of  his  lat- 
est inventions  was  a  little  thick  velvet  bag  in  which 
he  carried  the  keys;  and  this  bag  had  two  elastic 
mouths,  which  closed  so  tightly  about  either  wrist 
that  he  could  file  away,  inside,  and  scarcely  hear 
it  himself.  As  for  these  keys,  they  were  clever 
counterfeits  of  typical  patterns  by  two  great  safe- 
making  firms.  And  Raffles  had  come  by  them  in 
a  manner  all  his  own,  which  the  criminal  world 
may  discover  for  itself. 

When  he  opened  the  door  and  beckoned  to  me, 
I  knew  by  his  face  that  he  had  succeeded  to  his 
satisfaction,  and  by  experience  better  than  to  ques- 
tion him  on  the  point.  Indeed,  the  first  thing  was 
to  get  out  of  the  bank;  for  the  stars  were  drowning 

145 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

in  a  sky  of  ink  and  water,  and  it  was  a  comfort  to 
feel  that  we  could  fly  straight  to  our  beds.  I 
said  so  in  whispers  as  Raffles  cautiously  opened 
our  window  and  peeped  out.  In  an  instant 
his  head  was  in,  and  for  another  I  feared  the 
worst. 

"What  was  that,  Bunny?  No,  you  don't,  my 
son!  There's  not  a  soul  in  sight  that  I  can  see, 
but  you  never  know,  and  we  may  as  well  lay  a 
scent  while  we're  about  it.  Ready?  Then  follow 
me,  and  never  mind  the  window." 

With  that  he  dropped  softly  into  the  street, 
and  I  after  him,  turning  to  the  right  instead  of 
the  left,  and  that  at  a  brisk  trot  instead  of  the  inno- 
cent walk  which  had  brought  us  to  the  bank.  Like 
mice  we  scampered  past  the  great  schoolroom,  with 
its  gable  snipping  a  paler  sky  than  ever,  and  the 
shadows  melting  even  in  the  colonnade  underneath. 
Masters'  houses  flitted  by  on  the  left,  lesser  land- 
marks on  either  side,  and  presently  we  were  run- 
ning our  heads  into  the  dawn,  one  under  either 
hedge  of  the  Stockley  road. 

"Did  you  see  that  light  in  Nab's  just  now?" 
cried  Raffles  as  he  led. 

"No;  why?"  I  panted,  nearly  spent. 

"It  was  in  Nab's  dressing-room." 

"Yes?" 

146 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

"I've  seen  it  there  before,"  continued  Raffles. 
"He  never  was  a  good  sleeper,  and  his  ears  reach 
to  the  street.  I  wouldn't  like  to  say  how  often  I 
was  chased  by  him  in  the  small  hours!  I  believe 
he  knew  who  it  was  toward  the  end,  but  Nab  was 
not  the  man  to  accuse  you  of  what  he  couldn't 
prove." 

I  had  no  breath  for  comment.  And  on  sped 
Raffles  like  a  yacht  before  the  wind,  and  on  I 
blundered  like  a  wherry  at  sea,  making  heavy 
weather  all  the  way,  and  nearer  foundering  at 
every  stride.  Suddenly,  to  my  deep  relief,  Raffles 
halted,  but  only  to  tell  me  to  stop  my  pipes  while 
he  listened. 

"It's  all  right,  Bunny,"  he  resumed,  showing 
me  a  glowing  face  in  the  dawn.  "History's  on 
its  own  tracks  once  more,  and  I'll  bet  you  it's  dear 
old  Nab  on  ours!  Come  on,  Bunny;  run  to  the 
last  gasp,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

I  was  past  arguing,  and  away  he  went.  There 
was  no  help  for  it  but  to  follow  as  best  I  could. 
Yet  I  had  vastly  preferred  to  collapse  on  the  spot, 
and  trust  to  Raffles's  resource,  as  before  very  long 
I  must.  I  had  never  enjoyed  long  wind  and  the 
hours  that  we  kept  in  town  may  well  have  aggra- 
vated the  deficiency.  Raffles,  however,  was  in  first- 
class  training  from  first-class  cricket,  and  he  had  no 

147 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

mercy  on  Nab  or  me.  But  the  master  himself  was 
an  old  Oxford  miler,  who  could  still  bear  it  better 
than  I;  nay,  as  I  flagged  and  stumbled,  I  heard 
him  pounding  steadily  behind. 

"Come  on,  come  on,  or  he'll  do  us !"  cried  Raf- 
fles shrilly  over  his  shoulder;  and  a  gruff  sardonic 
laugh  came  back  over  mine.  It  was  pearly  morn- 
ing now,  but  we  had  run  into  a  shallow  mist  that 
took  me  by  the  throat  and  stabbed  me  to  the  lungs. 
I  coughed  and  coughed,  and  stumbled  in  my  stride, 
until  down  I  went,  less  by  accident  than  to  get  it 
over,  and  so  lay  headlong  in  my  tracks.  And  old 
Nab  dealt  me  a  verbal  kick  as  he  passed. 

"You  beast!"  he  growled,  as  I  have  known  him 
growl  it  in  form. 

But  Raffles  himself  had  abandoned  the  flight  on 
hearing  my  downfall,  and  I  was  on  hands  and 
knees  just  in  time  to  see  the  meeting  between  him 
and  old  Nab.  And  there  stood  Raffles  in  the 
silvery  mist,  laughing  with  his  whole  light  heart, 
leaning  back  to  get  the  full  flavor  of  his  mirth; 
and,  nearer  me,  sturdy  old  Nab,  dour  and  grim, 
with  beads  of  dew  on  the  hoary  beard  that  had 
been  lamp-black  in  our  time. 

"So  I've  caught  you  at  last!"  said  he.  "After 
more  years  than  I  mean  to  count!" 

"Then   you're  luckier  than  we  are,   sir,"   an- 

148 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

swered  Raffles,  "for  I  fear  our  man  has  given  us 
the  slip." 

"Your  man!"  echoed  Nab.  His  bushy  eye- 
brows had  shot  up :  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do 
to  keep  my  own  in  their  place. 

"We  were  indulging  in  the  chase  ourselves," 
explained  Raffles,  "and  one  of  us  has  suffered  for 
his  zeal,  as  you  can  see.  It  is  even  possible  that 
we,  too,  have  been  chasing  a  perfectly  innocent 


man." 


"Not  to  say  a  reformed  character,"  said  our  pur- 
suer dryly.  "I  suppose  you  don't  mean  a  member 
of  the  school?"  he  added,  pinking  his  man  sud- 
denly as  of  yore,  with  all  the  old  barbed  acumen. 

But  Raffles  was  now  his  match. 

"That  would  be  carrying  reformation  rather 
far,  sir.  No,  as  I  say,  I  may  have  been  mistaken 
in  the  first  instance;  but  I  had  put  out  my  light 
and  was  looking  out  of  the  window  when  I  saw  a 
fellow  behaving  quite  suspiciously.  He  was  carry- 
ing his  boots  and  creeping  along  in  his  socks — 
which  must  be  why  you  never  heard  him,  sir.  They 
make  less  noise  than  rubber  soles  even — that  is, 
they  must,  you  know !  Well,  Bunny  had  just  left 
me,  so  I  hauled  him  out  and  we  both  crept  down 
to  play  detective.  No  sign  of  the  fellow !  We 
had  a  look  in  the  colonnade — I  thought  I  heard 

149 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

him — and  that  gave  us  no  end  of  a  hunt  for  noth- 
ing. But  just  as  we  were  leaving  he  came  padding 
past  under  our  noses,  and  that's  where  we  took  up 
the  chase.  Where  he'd  been  in  the  meantime  I 
have  no  idea ;  very  likely  he'd  done  no  harm ;  but 
it  seemed  worth  while  finding  out.  He  had  too 
good  a  start,  though,  and  poor  Bunny  had  too  bad 
a  wind." 

"You  should  have  gone  on  and  let  me  rip," 
said  I,  climbing  to  my  feet  at  last. 

"As  it  is,  however,  we  will  all  let  the  other 
fellow  do  so,"  said  old  Nab  in  a  genial  growl. 
"And  you  two  had  better  turn  into  my  house  and 
have  something  to  keep  the  morning  cold  out." 

You  may  imagine  with  what  alacrity  we  com- 
plied; and  yet  I  am  bound  to  confess  that  I  had 
never  liked  Nab  at  school.  I  still  remember  my 
term  in  his  form.  He  had  a  caustic  tongue  and  ? 
fine  assortment  of  damaging  epithets,  most  of 
which  were  levelled  at  my  devoted  skull  during 
those  three  months.  I  now  discovered  that  he  also 
kept  a  particularly  mellow  Scotch  whiskey,  an  ex- 
cellent cigar,  and  a  fund  of  anecdote  of  which  a 
mordant  wit  was  the  worthy  bursar.  Enough  to 
add  that  he  kept  us  laughing  in  his  study  until  the 
chapel  bells  rang  him  out. 

As  for  Raffles,  he  appeared  to  me  to  feel  far 

150 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

more  compunction  for  the  fable  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  foist  upon  one  of  the  old  masters 
than  for  the  immeasurably  graver  offence  against 
society  and  another  Old  Boy.  This,  indeed,  did 
not  worry  him  at  all;  and  the  story  was  received 
next  day  with  absolute  credulity  on  all  sides.  Nas- 
myth  himself  was  the  first  to  thank  us  both  for  our 
spirited  effort  on  his  behalf;  and  the  incident  had 
the  ironic  effect  of  establishing  an  immediate  en- 
tente cordiale  between  Raffles  and  his  very  latest 
victim.  I  must  confess,  however,  that  for  my  own 
part  I  was  thoroughly  uneasy  during  the  Old  Boys' 
second  innings,  when  Raffles  made  a  selfish  score, 
instead  of  standing  by  me  to  tell  his  own  story  in 
his  own  way.  There  was  never  any  knowing  with 
what  new  detail  he  was  about  to  embellish  it :  and  I 
have  still  to  receive  full  credit  for  the  tact  that  it 
required  to  follow  his  erratic  lead  convincingly. 
Seldom  have  I  been  more  thankful  than  when  our 
train  started  next  morning,  and  the  poor,  unsuspect- 
ing Nasmyth  himself  waved  us  a  last  farewell  from 
the  platform. 

"Lucky  we  weren't  staying  at  Nab's,"  said  Raf- 
fles, as  he  lit  a  Sullivan  and  opened  his  Daily  Mail 
at  its  report  of  the  robbery.  "There  was  one 
thing  Nab  would  have  spotted  like  the  downy  old 
bird  he  always  was  and  will  be." 

151 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"What  was  that?" 

"The  front  door  must  have  been  found  duly 
barred  and  bolted  in  the  morning,  and  yet  we  let 
them  assume  that  we  came  out  that  way.  Nab 
would  have  pounced  on  the  point,  and  by  this 
time  we  might  have  been  nabbed  ourselves." 

It  was  but  a  little  over  a  hundred  sovereigns  that 
Raffles  had  taken,  and,  of  course,  he  had  resolutely 
eschewed  any  and  every  form  of  paper  money. 
He  posted  his  own  first  contribution  of  twenty- 
five  pounds  to  the  Founder's  Fund  immediately  on 
our  return  to  town,  before  rushing  off  to  more  first- 
class  cricket,  and  I  gathered  that  the  rest  would 
follow  piecemeal  as  he  deemed  it  safe.  By  an  odd 
coincidence,  however,  a  mysterious  but  magnificent 
donation  of  a  hundred  guineas  was  almost  simulta- 
neously received  in  notes  by  the  treasurer  of  the 
Founder's  Fund,  from  one  who  simply  signed  him- 
self "Old  Boy."  The  treasurer  happened  to  be 
our  late  host,  the  new  man  at  our  old  house,  and 
he  wrote  to  congratulate  Raffles  on  what  he  was 
pleased  to  consider  a  direct  result  of  the  latter's 
speech.  I  did  not  see  the  letter  that  Raffles  wrote 
in  reply,  but  in  due  course  I  heard  the  name  of  the 
mysterious  contributor.  He  was  said  to  be  no  other 
than  Nipper  Nasmyth  himself.  I  asked  Raffles 
if  it  was  true.     He  replied  that  he  would  ask  old 

152 


He  kept  us  laughing  in  his  study  until  the  chapel  bells  rang  him  out. 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

Nipper  point-blank  if  he  came  up  as  usual  to  the 
'Varsity  match,  and  if  they  had  the  luck  to  meet. 
And  not  only  did  this  happen,  but  I  had  the 
greater  luck  to  be  walking  round  the  ground  with 
Raffles  when  we  encountered  our  shabby  friend  in 
front  of  the  pavilion. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  cried  Raffles,  "I  hear  it  was 
you  who  gave  that  hundred  guineas  by  stealth  to 
the  very  movement  you  denounced.  Don't  deny 
it,  and  don't  blush  to  find  it  fame.  Listen  to  me. 
There  was  a  great  lot  in  what  you  said;  but  it's 
the  kind  of  thing  we  ought  all  to  back,  whether 
we  strictly  approve  of  it  in  our  hearts  or  not." 

"Exactly,  Raffles,  but  the  fact  is " 

"I  know  what  you're  going  to  say.  Don't  say 
it.  There's  not  one  in  a  thousand  who  would  do 
as  you've  done,  and  not  one  in  a  million  who  would 
do  it  anonymously." 

"But  what  makes  you  think  I  did  it,  Raffles?" 
Everybody  is  saying  so.   You  will  find  it  all  over 
the  place  when  you  get  back.  You  will  find  yourself 
the  most  popular  man  down  there,  Nasmyth !" 

I  never  saw  a  nobler  embarrassment  than  that 
of  this  awkward,  ungainly,  cantankerous  man:  all 
his  angles  seemed  to  have  been  smoothed  away: 
there  was  something  quite  human  in  the  flushed, 
undecided,  wistful  face. 

153 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"I  never  was  popular  in  my  life,"  he  said.  "I 
don't  want  to  buy  my  popularity  now.  To  be 
perfectly  candid  with  you,  Raffles " 

"Don't !  I  can't  stop  to  hear.  They're  ringing 
the  bell.  But  you  shouldn't  have  been  angry  with 
me  for  saying  you  were  a  generous  good  chap,  Nas- 
myth,  when  you  were  one  all  the  time.  Good-by, 
old  fellow!" 

But  Nasmyth  detained  us  a  second  more.  His 
hesitation  was  at  an  end.  There  was  a  sudden 
new  light  in  his  face. 

"Was  I?"  he  cried.  "Then  I'll  make  it  two 
hundred,  and  damn  the  odds!" 

Raffles  was  a  thoughtful  man  as  we  went  to  our 
seats.  He  saw  nobody,  would  acknowledge  no 
remark.  Neither  did  he  attend  to  the  cricket  for 
the  first  half-hour  after  lunch;  instead,  he  eventu- 
ally invited  me  to  come  for  a  stroll  on  the  practice 
ground,  where,  however,  we  found  two  chairs 
aloof  from  the  fascinating  throng. 

"I  am  not  often  sorry,  Bunny,  as  you  know," 
he  began.  "But  I  have  been  sorry  since  the  in- 
terval. I've  been  sorry  for  poor  old  Nipper  Nas- 
myth. Did  you  see  the  idea  of  being  popular  dawn 
upon  him  for  the  first  time  in  his  life?" 

"I  did;  but  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  that, 
my  dear  man." 

154 


The  Field  of  Philippi 

Raffles  shook  his  head  over  me  as  our  eyes  met. 

"I  had  everything  to  do  with  it.  I  tried  to 
make  him  tell  the  meanest  lie.  I  made  sure  he 
would,  and  for  that  matter  he  nearly  did.  Then, 
at  the  last  moment,  he  saw  how  to  hedge  things 
with  his  conscience.  And  his  second  hundred  will 
be  a  real  gift." 

"You  mean  under  his  own  name?" 

"And  with  his  own  free-will.  My  good  Bunny, 
is  it  possible  you  don't  know  what  I  did  with  the 
hundred  we  drew  from  that  bank!" 

"I  knew  what  you  were  going  to  do  with  it," 
said  I.  "I  didn't  know  you  had  actually  got  fur- 
ther than  the  twenty-five  you  told  me  you  were 
sending  as  your  own  contribution." 

Raffles  rose  abruptly  from  his  chair. 

"And  you  actually  thought  that  came  out  of  his 
money?" 

"Naturally." 

"In  my  name?" 

"I  thought  so." 

Raffles  stared  at  me  inscrutably  for  some  mo- 
ments, and  for  some  more  at  the  great  white  num- 
bers over  the  grand-stand. 

"We  may  as  well  have  another  look  at  the 
cricket,"  said  he.  "It's  difficult  to  see  the  board 
from  here,  but  I  believe  there's  another  man  out." 


T55 


A  Bad  Night 

THERE  was  to  be  a  certain  little  wedding 
in  which  Raffles  and  I  took  a  surreptitious 
interest.  The  bride-elect  was  living  in  some  retire- 
ment, with  a  recently  widowed  mother  and  an 
asthmatical  brother,  in  a  mellow  hermitage  on  the 
banks  of  the  Mole.  The  bridegroom  was  a  pros- 
perous son  of  the  same  suburban  soil  which  had 
nourished  both  families  for  generations.  The  wed- 
ding presents  were  so  numerous  as  to  fill  several 
rooms  at  the  pretty  retreat  upon  the  Mole,  and  of 
an  intrinsic  value  calling  for  a  special  transaction 
with  the  Burglary  Insurance  Company  in  Cheap- 
side.  I  cannot  say  how  Raffles  obtained  all  this 
information.  I  only  know  that  it  proved  correct 
in  each  particular.  I  was  not  indeed  deeply  inter- 
ested before  the  event,  since  Raffles  assured  me 
that  it  was  "a  one-man  job,"  and  naturally  in- 
tended to  be  the  one  man  himself.  It  was  only  at 
the  eleventh  hour  that  our  positions  were  inverted 
by  the  wholly  unexpected  selection  of  Raffles  for 
the  English  team  in  the  Second  Test  Match. 

156 


A  Bad  Night 

In  a  flash  I  saw  the  chance  of  my  criminal 
career.  It  was  some  years  since  Raffles  had  served 
his  country  in  these  encounters;  he  had  never 
thought  to  be  called  upon  again,  and  his  gratifica- 
tion was  only  less  than  his  embarrassment.  The 
match  was  at  Old  Trafford,  on  the  third  Thurs- 
day, Friday,  and  Saturday  in  July;  the  other  affair 
had  been  all  arranged  for  the  Thursday  night,  the 
night  of  the  wedding  at  East  Molesey.  It  was  for 
Raffles  to  choose  between  the  two  excitements,  and 
for  once  I  helped  him  to  make  up  his  mind.  I 
duly  pointed  out  to  him  that  in  Surrey,  at  all 
events,  I  was  quite  capable  of  taking  his  place. 
Nay,  more,  I  insisted  at  once  on  my  prescriptive 
right  and  on  his  patriotic  obligation  in  the  matter. 
In  the  country's  name  and  in  my  own,  I  implored 
him  to  give  it  and  me  a  chance;  and  for  once,  as 
I  say,  my  arguments  prevailed.  Raffles  sent  his 
telegram — it  was  the  day  before  the  match.  We 
then  rushed  down  to  Esher,  and  over  every  inch 
of  the  ground  by  that  characteristically  circuitous 
route  which  he  enjoined  on  me  for  the  next  night. 
And  at  six  in  the  evening  I  was  receiving  the  last 
of  my  many  instructions  through  a  window  of  the 
restaurant  car. 

"Only  promise  me  not  to  take  a  revolver,"  said 
Raffles  in  a  whisper.     "Here  are  my  keys;  there's 

157 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

an  old  life-preserver  somewhere  in  the  bureau;  take 
that,  if  you  like — though  what  you  take  I  rather 
fear  you  are  the  chap  to  use!" 

"Then  the  rope  be  round  my  own  neck!"  I 
whispered  back.  "Whatever  else  I  may  do,  Raf- 
fles, I  shan't  give  you  away;  and  you'll  find  I 
do  better  than  you  think,  and  am  worth  trusting 
with  a  little  more  to  do,  or  I'll  know  the  reason 
why!" 

And  I  meant  to  know  it,  as  he  was  borne  out  of 
Euston  with  raised  eyebrows,  and  I  turned  grimly 
on  my  heel.  I  saw  his  fears  for  me ;  and  nothing 
could  have  made  me  more  fearless  for  myself. 
Raffles  had  been  wrong  about  me  all  these  years; 
now  was  my  chance  to  set  him  right.  It  was 
galling  to  feel  that  he  had  no  confidence  in  my 
coolness  or  my  nerve,  when  neither  had  ever  failed 
him  at  a  pinch.  I  had  been  loyal  to  him  through 
rough  and  smooth.  In  many  an  ugly  corner  I  had 
stood  as  firm  as  Raffles  himself.  I  was  his  right 
hand,  and  yet  he  never  hesitated  to  make  me  his 
catspaw.  This  time,  at  all  events,  I  should  be 
neither  one  nor  the  other;  this  time  I  was  the 
understudy  playing  lead  at  last;  and  I  wish  I  could 
think  that  Raffles  ever  realized  with  what  gusto 
I  threw  myself  into  his  part. 

Thus  I  was  first  out  of  a  crowded  theatre  train  at 

158 


A  Bad  Night 

Esher  next  night,  and  first  down  the  stairs  into  the 
open  air.  The  night  was  close  and  cloudy;  and  the 
road  to  Hampton  Court,  even  now  that  the  sub- 
urban builder  has  marked  much  of  it  for  his  own, 
is  one  of  the  darkest  I  know.  The  first  mile  is  still 
a  narrow  avenue,  a  mere  tunnel  of  leaves  at  mid- 
summer; but  at  that  time  there  was  not  a  lighted 
pane  or  cranny  by  the  way.  Naturally,  it  was  in 
this  blind  reach  that  I  fancied  I  was  being  fol- 
lowed. I  stopped  in  my  stride;  so  did  the  steps 
I  made  sure  I  had  heard  not  far  behind;  and  when 
I  went  on,  they  followed  suit.  I  dried  my  fore- 
head as  I  walked,  but  soon  brought  myself  to 
repeat  the  experiment  when  an  exact  repetition  of 
the  result  went  to  convince  me  that  it  had  been  my 
own  echo  all  the  time.  And  since  I  lost  it  on  get- 
ting quit  of  the  avenue,  and  coming  out  upon  the 
straight  and  open  road,  I  was  not  long  in  recover- 
ing from  my  scare.  But  now  I  could  see  my  way, 
and  found  the  rest  of  it  without  mishap,  though 
not  without  another  semblance  of  adventure.  Over 
the  bridge  across  the  Mole,  when  about  to  turn 
to  the  left,  I  marched  straight  upon  a  policeman 
in  rubber  soles.  I  had  to  call  him  "officer"  as  I 
passed,  and  to  pass  my  turning  by  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred yards,  before  venturing  back  another  way. 
At  last  I  had  crept  through  a  garden  gate,  and 

159 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

round  by  black  windows  to  a  black  lawn  drenched 
with  dew.  It  had  been  a  heating  walk,  and  I  was 
glad  to  blunder  on  a  garden  seat,  most  consider- 
ately placed  under  a  cedar  which  added  its  own 
darkness  to  that  of  the  night.  Here  I  rested  a  few 
minutes,  putting  up  my  feet  to  keep  them  dry, 
untying  my  shoes  to  save  time,  and  generally  facing 
the  task  before  me  with  a  coolness  which  I  strove 
to  make  worthy  of  my  absent  chief.  But  mine  was 
a  self-conscious  quality,  as  far  removed  from  the 
original  as  any  other  deliberate  imitation  of  genius. 
I  actually  struck  a  match  on  my  trousers,  and  lit 
one  of  the  shorter  Sullivans.  Raffles  himself  would 
not  have  done  such  a  thing  at  such  a  moment. 
But  I  wished  to  tell  him  that  I  had  done  it;  and 
in  truth  I  was  not  more  than  pleasurably  afraid;  I 
had  rather  that  impersonal  curiosity  as  to  the  issue 
which  has  been  the  saving  of  me  in  still  more  pre- 
carious situations.  I  even  grew  impatient  for  the 
fray,  and  could  not  after  all  sit  still  as  long  as  I 
had  intended.  So  it  happened  that  I  was  finishing 
my  cigarette  on  the  edge  of  the  wet  lawn,  and 
about  to  slip  off  my  shoes  before  stepping  across 
the  gravel  to  the  conservatory  door,  when  a  most 
singular  sound  arrested  me  in  the  act.  It  was  a 
muffled  gasping  somewhere  overhead.  I  stood  like 
stone;  and  my  listening  attitude  must  have  been 

160 


A  Bad  Night 

visible  against  the  milky  sheen  of  the  lawn,  for  a 
labored  voice  hailed  me  sternly  from  a  window. 

"Who  on  earth  are  you?"  it  wheezed. 

"A  detective  officer,"  I  replied,  "sent  down  by 
the  Burglary  Insurance  Company." 

Not  a  moment  had  I  paused  for  my  precious 
fable.  It  had  all  been  prepared  for  me  by  Raffles, 
in  case  of  need.  I  was  merely  repeating  a  lesson 
in  which  I  had  been  closely  schooled.  But  at  the 
window  there  was  pause  enough,  filled  only  by  the 
uncanny  wheezing  of  the  man  I  could  not  see. 

"I  don't  see  why  they  should  have  sent  you 
down,"  he  said  at  length.  "We  are  being  quite 
well  looked  after  by  the  local  police;  they're  giv- 
ing us  a  special  call  every  hour." 

"I  know  that,  Mr.  Medlicott,"  I  rejoined  on 
my  own  account.  "I  met  one  of  them  at  the  cor- 
ner just  now,  and  we  passed  the  time  of  night." 

My  heart  was  knocking  me  to  bits.  I  had 
started  for  myself  at  last. 

"Did  you  get  my  name  from  him?"  pursued  my 
questioner,  in  a  suspicious  wheeze. 

"No;  they  gave  me  that  before  I  started,"  I 
replied.  "But  I'm  sorry  you  saw  me,  sir;  it's  a 
mere  matter  of  routine,  and  not  intended  to  annoy 
anybody.  I  propose  to  keep  a  watch  on  the  place 
all  night,  but  I  own  it  wasn't  necessary  to  trespass 

161 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

as  I've  done.  I'll  take  myself  off  the  actual  prem- 
ises, if  you  prefer  it." 

This  again  was  all  my  own;  and  it  met  with 
a  success  that  might  have  given  me  confidence. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  young  Medlicott,  with 
a  grim  geniality.  "I've  just  woke  up  with  the 
devil  of  an  attack  of  asthma,  and  may  have  to  sit 
up  in  my  chair  till  morning.  You'd  better  come 
up  and  see  me  through,  and  kill  two  birds  while 
you're  about  it.  Stay  where  you  are,  and  I'll  come 
down  and  let  you  in.'' 

Here  was  a  dilemma  which  Raffles  himself  had 
not  foreseen !  Outside,  in  the  dark,  my  audacious 
part  was  not  hard  to  play;  but  to  carry  the  improv- 
isation in-doors  was  to  double  at  once  the  diffi- 
culty and  the  risk.  It  was  true  that  I  had  pur- 
posely come  down  in  a  true  detective's  overcoat 
and  bowler;  but  my  personal  appearance  was 
hardly  of  the  detective  type.  On  the  other  hand 
as  the  soi-disant  guardian  of  the  gifts  one  might 
only  excite  suspicion  by  refusing  to  enter  the  house 
where  they  were.  Nor  could  I  forget  that  it  was 
my  purpose  to  effect  such  entry  first  or  last.  That 
was  the  casting  consideration.  I  decided  to  take 
my  dilemma  by  the  horns. 

There  had  been  a  scraping  of  matches  in  the 
room  over  the  conservatory;  the  open  window  had 

162 


A  Bad  Night 

shown  for  a  moment,  like  an  empty  picture-frame, 
a  gigantic  shadow  wavering  on  the  ceiling;  and 
in  the  next  half-minute  I  remembered  to  tie  my 
shoes.  But  the  light  was  slow  to  reappear  through 
the  leaded  glasses  of  an  outer  door  farther  along 
the  path.  And  when  the  door  opened,  it  was  a 
figure  of  woe  that  stood  within  and  held  an  un- 
steady candle  between  our  faces. 

I  have  seen  old  men  look  half  their  age,  and 
young  men  look  double  theirs;  but  never  before 
or  since  have  I  seen  a  beardless  boy  bent  into 
a  man  of  eighty,  gasping  for  every  breath,  shaken 
by  every  gasp,  swaying,  tottering,  and  choking, 
as  if  about  to  die  upon  his  feet.  Yet  with  it  all, 
young  Medlicott  overhauled  me  shrewdly,  and  it 
was  several  moments  before  he  would  let  me  take 
the  candle  from  him. 

"I  shouldn't  have  come  down — made  me 
worse,"  he  began  whispering  in  spurts.  "Worse 
still  going  up  again.  You  must  give  me  an  arm. 
You  will  come  up  ?  That's  right !  Not  as  bad  as 
I  look,  you  know.  Got  some  good  whiskey,  too. 
Presents  are  all  right;  but  if  they  aren't  you'll 
hear  of  it  in-doors  sooner  than  out.  Now  I'm 
ready — thanks!  Mustn't  make  more  noise  than 
we  can  help — wake  my  mother." 

It  must  have  taken  us  minutes  to  climb  that 

163 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

single  flight  of  stairs.  There  was  just  room  for 
me  to  keep  his  arm  in  mine;  with  the  other  he 
hauled  on  the  banisters;  and  so  we  mounted,  step 
by  step,  a  panting  pause  on  each,  and  a  pitched 
battle  for  breath  on  the  half-landing.  In  the  end 
we  gained  a  cosey  library,  with  an  open  door  lead- 
ing to  a  bedroom  beyond.  But  the  effort  had  de- 
prived my  poor  companion  of  all  power  of  speech ; 
his  laboring  lungs  shrieked  like  the  wind;  he  could 
just  point  to  the  door  by  which  we  had  entered, 
and  which  I  shut  in  obedience  to  his  gestures,  and 
then  to  the  decanter  and  its  accessories  on  the 
table  where  he  had  left  them  overnight.  I  gave 
him  nearly  half  a  glassful,  and  his  paroxysm  sub- 
sided a  little  as  he  sat  hunched  up  in  a  chair. 

"I  was  a  fool  ...  to  turn  in,"  he  blurted 
in  more  whispers  between  longer  pauses.  "Lying 
down  is  the  devil  .  .  .  when  you're  in  for 
a  real  bad  night.  You  might  get  me  the  brown 
cigarettes  ...  on  the  table  in  there.  That's 
right  .  .  .  thanks  awfully  .  .  .  and 
now  a  match!" 

The  asthmatic  had  bitten  off  either  end  of  the 
stramonium  cigarette,  and  was  soon  choking  him- 
self with  the  crude  fumes,  which  he  inhaled  in 
desperate  gulps,  to  exhale  in  furious  fits  of  cough- 
ing.    Never  was  more  heroic  remedy;  it  seemed 

164 


A  Bad  Night 

a  form  of  lingering  suicide;  but  by  degrees  some 
slight  improvement  became  apparent,  and  at 
length  the  sufferer  was  able  to  sit  upright,  and  to 
drain  his  glass  with  a  sigh  of  rare  relief.  I  sighed 
also,  for  I  had  witnessed  a  struggle  for  dear  life 
by  a  man  in  the  flower  of  his  youth,  whose  looks 
I  liked,  whose  smile  came  like  the  sun  through  the 
first  break  in  his  torments,  and  whose  first  words 
were  to  thank  me  for  the  little  I  had  done  in  bare 
humanity. 

That  made  me  feel  the  thing  I  was.  But  the 
feeling  put  me  on  my  guard.  And  I  was  not 
unready  for  the  remark  which  followed  a  more 
exhaustive  scrutiny  than  I  had  hitherto  sustained. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  young  Medlicott,  "that 
you  aren't  a  bit  like  the  detective  of  my  dreams?" 

"Only  to  proud  to  hear  it,"  I  replied.  "There 
would  be  no  point  in  my  being  in  plain  clothes  if 
I  looked  exactly  what  I  was." 

My  companion  reassured  me  with  a  wheezy 
laugh. 

"There's  something  in  that,"  said  he,  "al- 
though I  do  congratulate  the  insurance  people  on 
getting  a  man  of  your  class  to  do  their  dirty  work. 
And  I  congratulate  myself,"  he  was  quick  enough 
to  add,  "on  having  you  to  see  me  through  as  bad 
a  night  as  I've  had  for  a  long  time.     You're  like 

165 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

flowers  in  the  depths  of  winter.  Got  a  drink? 
That's  right!  I  suppose  you  didn't  happen  to 
bring  down  an  evening  paper?" 

I  said  I  had  brought  one,  but  had  unfortu- 
nately left  it  in  the  train. 

"What  about  the  Test  Match?"  cried  my 
asthmatic,  shooting  forward  in  his  chair. 

"I  can  tell  you  that,"  said  I.  "We  went  in 
first " 

"Oh,  I  know  all  about  that,"  he  interrupted. 
"I've  seen  the  miserable  score  up  to  lunch.  How 
many  did  we  scrape  altogether?" 

"We're  scraping  them  still." 

"No!  How  many?" 

"Over  two  hundred  for  seven  wickets." 

"Who  made  the  stand?" 

"Raffles,  for  one.  He  was  62  not  out  at  close 
of  play!" 

And  the  note  of  admiration  rang  in  my  voice, 
though  I  tried  in  my  self-consciousness  to  keep  it 
out.  But  young  Medlicott's  enthusiasm  proved 
an  ample  cloak  for  mine;  it  was  he  who  might 
have  been  the  personal  friend  of  Raffles;  and  in 
his  delight  he  chuckled  till  he  puffed  and  blew 
again. 

"Good  old  Raffles!"  he  panted  in  every  pause. 
"After  being  chosen  last,  and  as  a  bowler-man ! 

166 


A  Bad  Night 


That's  the  cricketer  for  me,  sir;  by  Jove,  we  must 
have  another  drink  in  his  honor !  Funny  thing, 
asthma;  your  liquor  affects  your  head  no  more 
than  it  does  a  man  with  a  snake-bite;  but  it  eases 
everything  else,  and  sees  you  through.  Doctors 
will  tell  you  so,  but  you've  got  to  ask  'em  first; 
they're  no  good  for  asthma !  I've  only  known 
one  who  could  stop  an  attack,  and  he  knocked  me 
sideways  with  nitrite  of  amyl.  Funny  complaint 
in  other  ways;  raises  your  spirits,  if  anything. 
You  can't  look  beyond  the  next  breath.  Nothing 
else  worries  you.  Well,  well,  here's  luck  to  A.  J. 
Raffles,  and  may  he  get  his  century  in  the  morn- 
ing!" 

And  he  struggled  to  his  feet  for  the  toast;  but 
I  drank  it  sitting  down.  I  felt  unreasonably  wroth 
with  Raffles,  for  coming  into  the  conversation 
as  he  had  done — for  taking  centuries  in  Test 
Matches  as  he  was  doing,  without  bothering  his 
head  about  me.  A  failure  would  have  been  in 
better  taste;  it  would  have  shown  at  least  some 
imagination,  some  anxiety  on  one's  account.  I  did 
not  reflect  that  even  Raffles  could  scarcely  be  ex- 
pected to  picture  me  in  my  cups  with  the  son  of 
the  house  that  I  had  come  to  rob;  chatting  with 
him,  ministering  to  him;  admiring  his  cheery 
courage,  and  honestly  attempting  to  lighten  his 

167 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

load!  Truly  it  was  an  infernal  position:  how 
could  I  rob  him  or  his  after  this?  And  yet  I  had 
thrust  myself  into  it;  and  Raffles  would  never, 
never  understand ! 

Even  that  was  not  the  worst.  I  was  not  quite 
sure  that  young  Medlicott  was  sure  of  me.  I  had 
feared  this  from  the  beginning,  and  now  (over 
the  second  glass  that  could  not  possibly  affect  a 
man  in  his  condition)  he  practically  admitted  as 
much  to  me.  Asthma  was  such  a  funny  thing  (he 
insisted)  that  it  would  not  worry  him  a  bit  to  dis- 
cover that  I  had  come  to  take  the  presents  instead 
of  to  take  care  of  them !  I  showed  a  sufficiently 
faint  appreciation  of  the  jest.  And  it  was  pres- 
ently punished  as  it  deserved,  by  the  most  violent 
paroxysm  that  had  seized  the  sufferer  yet:  the 
fight  for  breath  became  faster  and  more  furious, 
and  the  former  weapons  of  no  more  avail.  I  pre- 
pared a  cigarette,  but  the  poor  brute  was  too 
breathless  to  inhale.  I  poured  out  yet  more  whis- 
key, but  he  put  it  from  him  with  a  gesture. 

"Amyl — get  me  amyl!"  he  gasped.  'The  tin 
on  the  table  by  my  bed." 

I  rushed  into  his  room,  and  returned  with  a  little 
tin  of  tiny  cylinders  done  up  like  miniature  crack- 
ers in  scraps  of  calico;  the  spent  youth  broke  one 
in    his    handkerchief,    in    which    he    immediately 

1 68 


A  Bad  Night 


buried  his  face.  I  watched  him  closely  as  a  subtle 
odor  reached  my  nostrils;  and  it  was  like  the 
miracle  of  oil  upon  the  billows.  His  shoulders 
rested  from  long  travail;  the  stertorous  gasping 
died  away  to  a  quick  but  natural  respiration;  and 
in  the  sudden  cessation  of  the  cruel  contest,  an  un- 
canny stillness  fell  upon  the  scene.  Meanwhile 
the  hidden  face  had  flushed  to  the  ears,  and, 
when  at  length  it  was  raised  to  mine,  its 
crimson  calm  was  as  incongruous  as  an  optical 
illusion. 

"It  takes  the  blood  from  the  heart,"  he  mur- 
mured, "and  clears  the  whole  show  for  the  mo- 
ment. If  it  only  lasted!  But  you  can't  take  two 
without  a  doctor;  one's  quite  enough  to  make  you 
smell  the  brimstone.  ...  I  say,  what's  up? 
You're  listening  to  something!  If  it's  the  police- 
man we'll  have  a  word  with  him." 

It  was  not  the  policeman;  it  was  no  out-door 
sound  that  I  had  caught  in  the  sudden  cessation 
of  the  bout  for  breath.  It  was  a  noise,  a  footstep, 
in  the  room  below  us.  I  went  to  the  window  and 
leaned  out:  right  underneath,  in  the  conservatory, 
was  the  faintest  glimmer  of  a  light  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room. 

"One  of  the  rooms  where  the  presents  are!" 
whispered  Medlicott  at  my  elbow.     And  as  we 

169 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

withdrew  together,  I  looked  him  in  the  face  as 
I  had  not  done  all  night. 

I  looked  him  in  the  face  like  an  honest  man, 
for  a  miracle  was  to  make  me  one  once  more. 
My  knot  was  cut — my  course  inevitable.     Mirae, 
after  all,  to  prevent  the  very  thing  that  I  had 
come  to  do!     My  gorge  had  long  since  risen  at 
the  deed;  the  unforeseen  circumstances  had  ren- 
dered  it   impossible   from   the   first;   but   now   I 
could  afford  to  recognize  the  impossibility,  and  to 
think  of  Raffles  and  the  asthmatic  alike  without 
a  qualm.     I  could  play  the  game  by  them  both, 
for  it  was  one  and  the  same  game.     I  could  pre- 
serve thieves'  honor,  and  yet  regain  some  shred 
of  that  which  I  had  forfeited  as  a  man ! 

So  I  thought  as  we  stood  face  to  face,  our  ears 
straining  for  the  least  movement  below,  our  eyes 
locked  in  a  common  anxiety.  Another  muffled 
foot-fall — felt  rather  than  heard — and  we  ex- 
changed grim  nods  of  simultaneous  excitement. 
But  by  this  time  Medlicott  was  as  helpless  as  he 
had  been  before;  the  flush  had  faded  from  his 
face,  and  his  breathing  alone  would  have  spoiled 
everything.  In  dumb  show  I  had  to  order  him  to 
stay  where  he  was,  to  leave  my  man  to  me.  And 
then  it  was  that  in  a  gusty  whisper,  with  the  same 
shrewd  look  that  had  disconcerted  me  more  than 

170 


A  Bad  Night 

once  during  our  vigil,  young  Medlicott  froze  and 
fired  my  blood  by  turns. 

"I've  been  unjust  to  you,"  he  said,  with  his 
right  hand  in  his  dressing-gown  pocket.  "I 
thought  for  a  bit — never  mind  what  I  thought — 
I  soon  saw  I  was  wrong.  But — I've  had  this 
thing  in  my  pocket  all  the  time  I" 

And  he  would  have  thrust  his  revolver  upon  me 
as  a  peace-offering,  but  I  would  not  even  take  his 
hand,  as  I  tapped  the  life-preserver  in  my  pocket, 
and  crept  out  to  earn  his  honest  grip  or  to  fall  in 
the  attempt.  On  the  landing  I  drew  Raffles's 
little  weapon,  slipped  my  right  wrist  through  the 
leathern  loop,  and  held  it  in  readiness  over  my 
right  shoulder.  Then,  down-stairs  I  stole,  as  Raf- 
fles himself  had  taught  me,  close  to  the  wall, 
where  the  planks  are  nailed.  Nor  had  I  made  a 
sound,  to  my  knowledge;  for  a  door  was  open, 
and  a  light  was  burning,  and  the  light  did  not 
flicker  as  I  approached  the  door.  I  clenched  my 
teeth  and  pushed  it  open;  and  there  was  the 
veriest  villain  waiting  for  me,  his  little  lantern 
held  aloft. 

"You  blackguard!"  I  cried,  and  with  a  single 
thwack  I  felled  the  ruffian  to  the  floor. 

There  was  no  question  of  a  foul  blow.  He 
had  been  just  as  ready  to  pounce  on  me;  it  was 

171 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

simply  my  luck  to  have  got  the  first  blow  home. 
Yet  a  fellow-feeling  touched  me  with  remorse, 
as  I  stood  over  the  senseless  body,  sprawling  prone, 
and  perceived  that  I  had  struck  an  unarmed  man. 
The  lantern  only  had  fallen  from  his  hands;  it 
lay  on  one  side,  smoking  horribly;  and  a  some- 
thing in  the  reek  caused  me  to  set  it  up  in  haste 
and  turn  the  body  over  with  both  hands. 

Shall  I  ever  forget  the  incredulous  horror  of 
that  moment? 

It  was  Raffles  himself! 

How  it  was  possible,  I  did  not  pause  to  ask 
myself;  if  one  man  on  earth  could  annihilate  space 
and  time,  it  was  the  man  lying  senseless  at  my 
feet;  and  that  was  Raffles,  without  an  instant's 
doubt.  He  was  in  villainous  guise,  which  I  knew 
of  old,  now  that  I  knew  the  unhappy  wearer.  His 
face  was  grimy,  and  dexterously  plastered  with  a 
growth  of  reddish  hair;  his  clothes  were  those  in 
which  he  had  followed  cabs  from  the  London 
termini;  his  boots  were  muffled  in  thick  socks;  and 
I  had  laid  him  low  with  a  bloody  scalp  that 
filled  my  cup  of  horror.  I  groaned  aloud  as 
I  knelt  over  him  and  felt  his  heart.  And  I 
was  answered  by  a  bronchial  whistle  from  the 
door. 

"Jolly   well    done!"    cheered   my    asthmatical 

172 


A  Bad  Night 

friend.     "I  heard  the  whole  thing — only  hope  my 
mother  didn't.     We  must  keep  it  from  her  if  we 


can." 


I  could  have  cursed  the  creature's  mother  from 
my  full  heart;  yet  even  with  my  hand  on  that  of 
Raffles,  as  I  felt  his  feeble  pulse,  I  told  myself 
that  this  served  him  right.  Even  had  I  bramed 
him,  the  fault  had  been  his,  not  mine.  And  it  was 
a  characteristic,  an  inveterate  fault,  that  galled 
me  for  all  my  anguish:  to  trust  and  yet  distrust 
me  to  the  end,  to  race  through  England  in  the 
night,  to  spy  upon  me  at  his  work — to  do  it  him- 
self after  all ! 

"Is  he  dead?"  wheezed  the  asthmatic  coolly. 

"Not  he,"  I  answered,  with  an  indignation  that 
I  dared  not  show. 

"You  must  have  hit  him  pretty  hard,"  pursued 
young  Medlicott,  "but  I  suppose  it  was  a  case  of 
getting  first  knock.  And  a  good  job  you  got  it, 
if  this  was  his,"  he  added,  picking  up  the  murder- 
ous little  life-preserver  which  poor  Raffles  had 
provided  for  his  own  destruction. 

"Look  here,"  I  answered,  sitting  back  on  my 
heels.  "He  isn't  dead,  Mr.  Medlicott,  and  I  don't 
know  how  long  he'll  be  as  much  as  stunned.  He's  a 
powerful  brute,  and  you're  not  fit  to  lend  a  hand. 
But  that  policeman  of  yours  can't  be  far  away. 

*73 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

Do  you  think  you  could  struggle  out  and  look 
for  him?" 

"I  suppose  I  am  a  bit  better  than  I  was,"  he 
replied  doubtfully.  "The  excitement  seems  to 
have  done  me  good.  If  you  like  to  leave  me  on 
guard  with  my  revolver,  I'll  undertake  that  he 
doesn't  escape  me." 

I  shook  my  head  with  an  impatient  smile. 

"I  should  never  hear  the  last  of  it,"  said  I. 
"No,  in  that  case  all  I  can  do  is  to  handcuff  the 
fellow  and  wait  till  morning  if  he  won't  go 
quietly;  and  he'll  be  a  fool  if  he  does,  while  there's 
a  fighting  chance." 

Young  Medlicott  glanced  upstairs  from  his  post 
on  the  threshold.  I  refrained  from  watching  him 
too  keenly,  but  I  knew  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"I'll  go,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "I'll  go  as  I  am, 
before  my  mother  is  disturbed  and  frightened  out 
of  her  life.  I  owe  you  something,  too,  not  only 
for  what  you've  done  for  me,  but  for  what  I  was 
fool  enough  to  think  about  you  at  the  first  blush. 
It's  entirely  through  you  that  I  feel  as  fit  as  I  do 
for  the  moment.  So  I'll  take  your  tip,  and  go  just 
as  I  am,  before  my  poor  old  pipes  strike  up  another 
tune." 

I  scarcely  looked  up  until  the  good  fellow  had 
turned  his  back  upon  the  final  tableau  of  watchful 

174 


A  Bad  Night 


officer  and  prostrate  prisoner  and  gone  out  wheez- 
ing into  the  night.  But  I  was  at  the  door  to  hear 
the  last  of  him  down  the  path  and  round  the  cor- 
ner of  the  house.  And  when  I  rushed  back  into 
the  room,  there  was  Raffles  sitting  cross-legged 
on  the  floor,  and  slowly  shaking  his  broken  head 
as  he  stanched  the  blood. 

"Et  tu,  Bunny!"  he  groaned.  "Mine  own 
familiar  friend !" 

"Then  you  weren't  even  stunned!"  I  exclaimed. 
"Thank  God  for  that!" 

"Of  course  I  was  stunned,"  he  murmured, 
"and  no  thanks  to  you  that  I  wasn't  brained.  Not 
to  know  me  in  the  kit  you've  seen  scores  of  times ! 
You  never  looked  at  me,  Bunny;  you  didn't  give 
me  time  to  open  my  mouth.  I  was  going  to  let 
you  run  me  in  so  prettily !  We'd  have  walked  off 
arm-in-arm;  now  it's  as  tight  a  place  as  ever  we 
were  in,  though  you  did  get  rid  of  old  blow-pipes 
rather  nicely.  But  we  shall  have  the  devil's  own 
run  for  our  money  1" 

Raffles  had  picked  himself  up  between  his  mut- 
terings,  and  I  had  followed  him  to  the  door  into 
the  garden,  where  he  stood  busy  with  the  key  in 
the  dark,  having  blown  out  his  lantern  and  handed 
it  to  me.  But  though  I  followed  Raffles,  as  my 
nature  must,  I  was  far  too  embittered  to  answer 

175 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

him  again.  And  so  it  was  for  some  minutes  that 
might  furnish  forth  a  thrilling  page,  but  not  a 
novel  one  to  those  who  know  their  Raffles  and  put 
up  with  me.  Suffice  it  that  we  left  a  locked  door 
behind  us,  and  the  key  on  the  garden  wall,  which 
was  the  first  of  half  a  dozen  that  we  scaled  before 
dropping  into  a  lane  that  led  to  a  foot-bridge 
higher  up  the  backwater.  And  when  we  paused 
upon  the  foot-bridge,  the  houses  along  the  bank 
were  still  in  peace  and  darkness. 

Knowing  my  Raffles  as  I  did,  I  was  not  sur- 
prised when  he  dived  under  one  end  of  this  bridge, 
and  came  up  with  his  Inverness  cape  and  opera 
hat,  which  he  had  hidden  there  on  his  way  to  the 
house.  The  thick  socks  were  peeled  from  his 
patent-leathers,  the  ragged  trousers  stripped  from 
an  evening  pair,  bloodstains  and  Newgate  fringe 
removed  at  the  water's  edge,  and  the  whole  sepul- 
chre whited  in  less  time  than  the  thing  takes  to 
tell.  Nor  was  that  enough  for  Raffles,  but  he 
must  alter  me  as  well,  by  wearing  my  overcoat 
under  his  cape,  and  putting  his  Zingari  scarf  about 
my  neck. 

"And  now,"  said  he,  "you  may  be  glad  to  hear 
there's  a  3:12  from  Surbiton,  which  we  could 
catch  on  all  fours.  If  you  like  we'll  go  separately, 
but  I  don't  think  there's  the  slightest  danger  now, 

176 


The  ragged  trousers  stripped  from  an  evening  pair. 


A  Bad  Night 

and  I  begin  to  wonder  what's  happening  to  old 
blow-pipes." 

So,  indeed,  did  I,  and  with  no  small  concern, 
until  I  read  of  his  adventures  (and  our  own)  in 
the  newspapers.  It  seemed  that  he  had  made  a 
gallant  spurt  into  the  road,  and  there  paid  the 
penalty  of  his  rashness  by  a  sudden  incapacity  to 
move  another  inch.  It  had  eventually  taken  him 
twenty  minutes  to  creep  back  to  locked  doors,  and 
another  ten  to  ring  up  the  inmates.  His  description 
of  my  personal  appearance,  as  reported  in  the 
papers,  is  the  only  thing  that  reconciles  me  to  the 
thought  of  his  sufferings  during  that  half-hour. 

But  at  the  time  I  had  other  thoughts,  and  they 
lay  too  deep  for  idle  words,  for  to  me  also  it  was 
a  bitter  hour.  I  had  not  only  failed  in  my  self- 
sought  task;  I  had  nearly  killed  my  comrade  into 
the  bargain.  I  had  meant  well  by  friend  and  foe 
in  turn,  and  I  had  ended  in  doing  execrably  by 
both.  It  was  not  all  my  fault,  but  I  knew  how 
much  my  weakness  had  contributed  to  the  sum. 
And  I  must  walk  with  the  man  whose  fault  it 
was,  who  had  travelled  two  hundred  miles  to 
obtain  this  last  proof  of  my  weakness,  to  bring  it 
home  to  me,  and  to  make  our  intimacy  intolerable 
from  that  hour.  I  must  walk  with  him  to  Sur- 
biton,  but  I  need  not  talk;  all  through  Thames 

177 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

Ditton  I  had  ignored  his  sallies;  nor  yet  when  he 
ran  his  arm  through  mine,  on  the  river  front,  when 
we  were  nearly  there,  would  I  break  the  seal  my 
pride  had  set  upon  my  lips. 

"Come,  Bunny,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  have  been 
the  one  to  suffer  most,  when  all's  said  and  done, 
and  I'll  be  the  first  to  say  that  I  deserved  it. 
You've  broken  my  head;  my  hair's  all  glued  up 
in  my  gore;  and  what  yarn  I'm  to  put  up  at  Man- 
chester, or  how  I  shall  take  the  field  at  all,  I 
really  don't  know.  Yet  I  don't  blame  you,  Bunny, 
and  I  do  blame  myself.  Isn't  it  rather  hard  luck 
if  I  am  to  go  unforgiven  into  the  bargain?  I 
admit  that  I  made  a  mistake;  but,  my  dear  fellow, 
I  made  it  entirely  for  your  sake." 

"For  my  sake!"  I  echoed  bitterly. 

Raffles  was  more  generous;  he  ignored  my 
tone. 

"I  was  miserable  about  you — frankly — mis- 
erable!" he  went  on.  "I  couldn't  get  it  out  of 
my  head  that  somehow  you  would  be  laid  by  the 
heels.  It  was  not  your  pluck  that  I  distrusted,  my 
dear  fellow,  but  it  was  your  very  pluck  that  made 
me  tremble  for  you.  I  couldn't  get  you  out  of 
my  head.  I  went  in  when  runs  were  wanted,  but 
I  give  you  my  word  that  I  was  more  anxious  about 
you;  and  no  doubt  that's  why  I  helped  to  put  on 

178 


A  Bad  Night 


some  runs.  Didn't  you  see  it  in  the  paper, 
Bunny?    It's  the  innings  of  my  life,  so  far." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  saw  that  you  were  in  at  close 
of  play.  But  I  don't  believe  it  was  you — I  be- 
lieve you  have  a  double  who  plays  your  cricket 
for  you !" 

And  at  the  moment  that  seemed  less  incredible 
than  the  fact. 

"I'm  afraid  you  didn't  read  your  paper  very 
carefully,"  said  Raffles,  with  the  first  trace  of 
pique  in  his  tone.  "It  was  rain  that  closed  play 
before  five  o'clock.  I  hear  it  was  a  sultry  day  in 
town,  but  at  Manchester  we  got  the  storm,  and 
the  ground  was  under  water  in  ten  minutes.  I 
never  saw  such  a  thing  in  my  life.  There  was 
absolutely  not  the  ghost  of  a  chance  of  another 
ball  being  bowled.  But  I  had  changed  before  I 
thought  of  doing  what  I  did.  It  was  only  when 
I  was  on  my  way  back  to  the  hotel,  by  myself, 
because  I  couldn't  talk  to  a  soul  for  thinking  of 
you,  that  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  I  made  the 
man  take  me  to  the  station  instead,  and  was  under 
way  in  the  restaurant  car  before  I  had  time  to 
think  twice  about  it.  I  am  not  sure  that  of  all  the 
mad  deeds  I  have  ever  done,  this  was  not  the  mad- 
dest of  the  lot!" 

"It  was  the  finest,"  I  said  in  a  low  voice;  for 

179 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

now  I  marvelled  more  at  the  impulse  which  had 
prompted  his  feat,  and  at  the  circumstances  sur- 
rounding it,  than  even  at  the  feat  itself. 

"Heaven  knows,"  he  went  on,  "what  they  are 
saying  and  doing  in  Manchester!  But  what  can 
they  say?  What  business  is  it  of  theirs?  I  was 
there  when  play  stopped,  and  I  shall  be  there 
when  it  starts  again.  We  shall  be  at  Waterloo 
just  after  half-past  three,  and  that's  going  to  give 
me  an  hour  at  the  Albany  on  my  way  to  Euston, 
and  another  hour  at  Old  Trafford  before  play 
begins.  What's  the  matter  with  that?  I  don't 
suppose  I  shall  notch  any  more,  but  all  the  better 
if  I  don't;  if  we  have  a  hot  sun  after  the  storm, 
the  sooner  they  get  in  the  better;  and  may  I  have 
a  bowl  at  them  while  the  ground  bites  !" 

"I'll  come  up  with  you,"  I  said,  "and  see  you 
at  it." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Raffles,  "that  was 
my  whole  feeling  about  you.  I  wanted  to  'see 
you  at  it' — that  was  absolutely  all.  I  wanted  to 
be  near  enough  to  lend  a  hand  if  you  got  tied  up, 
as  the  best  of  us  will  at  times.  I  knew  the  ground 
better  than  you,  and  I  simply  couldn't  keep  away 
from  it.  But  I  didn't  mean  you  to  know  that  I 
was  there;  if  everything  had  gone  as  I  hoped  it 
might,  I  should  have  sneaked  back  to  town  with- 

180 


A  Bad  Night 

out  ever  letting  you  know  I  had  been  up.  You 
should  never  have  dreamt  that  I  had  been  at  your 
elbow;  you  would  have  believed  in  yourself,  and 
in  my  belief  in  you,  and  the  rest  would  have  been 
silence  till  the  grave.  So  I  dodged  you  at  Water- 
loo, and  I  tried  not  to  let  you  know  that  I  was 
following  you  from  Esher  station.  But  you  sus- 
pected somebody  was;  you  stopped  to  listen  more 
than  once;  after  the  second  time  I  dropped  be- 
hind, but  gained  on  you  by  taking  the  short  cut  by 
Imber  Court  and  over  the  foot-bridge  where  I  left 
my  coat  and  hat.  I  was  actually  in  the  garden 
before  you  were.  I  saw  you  smoke  your  Sullivan, 
and  I  was  rather  proud  of  you  for  it,  though  you 
must  never  do  that  sort  of  thing  again.  I  heard 
almost  every  word  between  you  and  the  poor 
devil  upstairs.  And  up  to  a  certain  point,  Bunny, 
I  really  thought  you  played  the  scene  to  per- 
fection." 

The  station  lights  were  twinkling  ahead  of  us 
in  the  fading  velvet  of  the  summer's  night.  I  let 
them  increase  and  multiply  before  I  spoke. 

"And  where,"  I  asked,  "did  you  think  I  first 
went  wrong?" 

"In  going  in-doors  at  all,"  said  Raffles.  "If  I 
had  done  that,  I  should  have  done  exactly  what 
you  did  from  that  point  on.     You  couldn't  help 

181 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

yourself,  with  that  poor  brute  in  that  state.  And 
I  admired  you  immensely,  Bunny,  if  that's  any 
comfort  to  you  now." 

Comfort!  It  was  wine  in  every  vein,  for  I 
knew  that  Raffles  meant  what  he  said,  and  with 
his  eyes  I  soon  saw  myself  in  braver  colors.  I 
ceased  to  blush  for  the  vacillations  of  the  night, 
since  he  condoned  them.  I  could  even  see  that 
I  had  behaved  with  a  measure  of  decency,  in  a 
truly  trying  situation,  now  that  Raffles  seemed  to 
think  so.  He  had  changed  my  whole  view  of  his 
proceedings  and  my  own,  in  every  incident  of  the 
night  but  one.  There  was  one  thing,  however, 
which  he  might  forgive  me,  but  which  I  felt  that 
I  could  forgive  neither  Raffles  nor  myself.  And 
that  was  the  contused  scalp  wound  over  which  I 
shuddered  in  the  train. 

"And  to  think  that  I  did  that,"  I  groaned, 
"and  that  you  laid  yourself  open  to  it,  and  that 
we  have  neither  of  us  got  another  thing  to  show 
for  our  night's  work!  That  poor  chap  said  it 
was  as  bad  a  night  as  he  had  ever  had  in  his  life; 
but  I  call  it  the  very  worst  that  you  and  I  ever  had 


in  ours." 


Raffles  was  smiling  under  the  double  lamps  of 
the  first-class  compartment  that  we  had  to  our- 
selves. 

182 


A  Bad  Night 

"I  wouldn't  say  that,  Bunny.     We  have  done 


worse." 


"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  did  anything 
at  all?" 

"My  dear  Bunny,"  replied  Raffles,  "you  should 
remember  how  long  I  had  been  maturing  this 
felonious  little  plan,  what  a  blow  it  was  to  me  to 
have  to  turn  it  over  to  you,  and  how  far  I  had 
travelled  to  see  that  you  did  it  and  yourself  as  well 
as  might  be.  You  know  what  I  did  see,  and  how 
well  I  understood.  I  tell  you  again  that  I  should 
have  done  the  same  thing  myself,  in  your  place. 
But  I  was  not  in  your  place,  Bunny.  My  hands 
were  not  tied  like  yours.  Unfortunately,  most  of 
the  jewels  nave  gone  on  the  honeymoon  with  the 
happy  pair;  but  these  emerald  links  are  all  right, 
and  I  don't  know  what  the  bride  was  doing  to 
leave  this  diamond  comb  behind.  Here,  too,  is 
the  old  silver  skewer  I've  been  wanting  for  years 
— they  make  the  most  charming  paper-knives  in 
the  world — and  this  gold  cigarette-case  will  just 
do  for  your  smaller  Sullivans." 

Nor  were  these  the  only  pretty  things  that  Raf- 
fles set  out  in  twinkling  array  upon  the  opposite 
cushions.  But  I  do  not  pretend  that  this  was  one 
of  our  heavy  hauls,  or  deny  that  its  chief  interest 
still  resides  in  the  score  of  the  Second  Test  Match 
of  that  Australian  tour. 

183 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

I  WAS  just  putting  out  my  light  when  the  tele- 
phone rang  a  furious  tocsin  in  the  next  room., 
I  flounced  out  of  bed  more  asleep  than  awake;  in 
another  minute  I  should  have  been  past  ringing  up. 
It  was  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  I  had  been 
dining  with  Swigger  Morrison  at  his  club. 

"Hulloa!" 

"That  you,  Bunny?" 

"Yes— are  you  Raffles?" 

"What's  left  of  me!     Bunny,  I  want  you — 
quick." 

And  even  over  the  wire  his  voice  was  faint  with 
anxiety  and  apprehension. 

"What  on  earth  has  happened?" 

"Don't  ask!    You  never  know " 

"I'll  come  at  once.    Are  you  there,  Raffles?" 

"What's  that?" 

"Are  you  there,  man?" 

"Ye— e— es." 

"At  the  Albany?" 

"No,  no;  at  Maguire's." 

"You  never  said  so.    And  where's  Maguire?" 

184 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

"In  Half-moon  Street." 

"I  know  that.     Is  he  there  now?" 

"No — not  come  in  yet — and  I'm  caught." 

"Caught!" 

"In  that  trap  he  bragged  about.  It  serves  me 
right.  I  didn't  believe  in  it.  But  I'm  caught  at 
last     .     .     .     caught     ...     at  last!" 

"When  he  told  us  he  set  it  every  night!  Oh, 
Raffles,  what  sort  of  a  trap  is  it?  What  shall  I  do? 
What  shall  I  bring?" 

But  his  voice  had  grown  fainter  and  wearier 
with  every  answer,  and  now  there  was  no  answer 
at  all.  Again  and  again  I  asked  Raffles  if  he  was 
there ;  the  only  sound  to  reach  me  in  reply  was  the 
low  metallic  hum  of  the  live  wire  between  his  ear 
and  mine.  And  then,  as  I  sat  gazing  distractedly 
at  my  four  safe  walls,  with  the  receiver  still  pressed 
to  my  head,  there  came  a  single  groan,  followed 
by  the  dull  and  dreadful  crash  of  a  human  body 
falling  in  a  heap. 

In  utter  panic  I  rushed  back  into  my  bedroom, 
and  flung  myself  into  the  crumpled  shirt  and  even- 
ing clothes  that  lay  where  I  had  cast  them  off. 
But  I  knew  no  more  what  I  was  doing  than  what 
to  do  next.  I  afterward  found  that  I  had  taken 
out  a  fresh  tie,  and  tied  it  rather  better  than  usual; 
but  I  can  remember  thinking  of  nothing  but  Raf- 

185 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

fles  in  some  diabolical  man-trap,  and  of  a  grinning 
monster  stealing  in  to  strike  him  senseless  with  one 
murderous  blow.  I  must  have  looked  in  the  glass 
to  array  myself  as  I  did;  but  the  mind's  eye  was 
the  seeing  eye,  and  it  was  filled  with  this  frightful 
vision  of  the  notorious  pugilist  known  to  fame  and 
infamy  as  Barney  Maguire. 

It  was  only  the  week  before  that  Raffles  and  I 
had  been  introduced  to  him  at  the  Imperial  Boxing 
Club.  Heavy-weight  champion  of  the  United 
States,  the  fellow  was  still  drunk  with  his  sangui- 
nary triumphs  on  that  side,  and  clamoring  for 
fresh  conquests  on  ours.  But  his  reputation  had 
crossed  the  Atlantic  before  Maguire  himself;  the 
grandiose  hotels  had  closed  their  doors  to  him; 
and  he  had  already  taken  and  sumptuously  fur- 
nished the  house  in  Half-moon  Street  which  does 
not  re-let  to  this  day.  Raffles  had  made  friends 
with  the  magnificent  brute,  while  I  took  timid 
stock  of  his  diamond  studs,  his  jewelled  watch- 
chain,  his  eighteen-carat  bangle,  and  his  six-inch 
lower  jaw.  I  had  shuddered  to  see  Raffles  admir- 
ing the  gewgaws  in  his  turn,  in  his  own  brazen 
fashion,  with  that  air  of  the  cool  connoisseur  which 
had  its  double  meaning  for  me.  I  for  my  part 
would  as  lief  have  looked  a  tiger  in  the  teeth. 
And  when  we  finally  went  home  with  Maguire  to 

1 86 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

see  his  other  trophies,  it  seemed  to  me  like  entering 
the  tiger's  lair.  But  an  astounding  lair  it  proved, 
fitted  throughout  by  one  eminent  firm,  and  ringing 
to  the  rafters  with  the  last  word  on  fantastic 
furniture. 

The  trophies  were  a  still  greater  surprise.  They 
opened  my  eyes  to  the  rosier  aspect  of  the  noble 
art,  as  presently  practised  on  the  right  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  Among  other  offerings,  we  were  per- 
mitted to  handle  the  jewelled  belt  presented  to 
the  pugilist  by  the  State  of  Nevada,  a  gold  brick 
from  the  citizens  of  Sacramento,  and  a  model  of 
himself  in  solid  silver  from  the  Fisticuff  Club  in 
New  York.  I  still  remember  waiting  with  bated 
breath  for  Raffles  to  ask  Maguire  if  he  were  not 
afraid  of  burglars,  and  Maguire  replying  that  he 
had  a  trap  to  catch  the  cleverest  cracksman  alive, 
but  flatly  refusing  to  tell  us  what  it  was.  I  could 
not  at  the  moment  conceive  a  more  terrible  trap 
than  the  heavy-weight  himself  behind  a  curtain. 
Yet  it  was  easy  to  see  that  Raffles  had  accepted  the 
braggart's  boast  as  a  challenge.  Nor  did  he  deny 
it  later  when  I  taxed  him  with  his  mad  resolve;  he 
merely  refused  to  allow  me  to  implicate  myself  in 
its  execution.  Well,  there  was  a  spice  of  savage 
satisfaction  in  the  thought  that  Raffles  had  been 
obliged  to  turn  to  me  in  the  end.    And,  but  for  the 

187 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

dreadful  thud  which  I  had  heard  over  the  tele- 
phone, I  might  have  extracted  some  genuine  com- 
fort from  the  unerring  sagacity  with  which  he  had 
chosen  his  night. 

Within  the  last  twenty-four  hours  Barney  Ma- 
guire  had  fought  his  first  great  battle  on  British 
soil.  Obviously,  he  would  no  longer  be  the  man 
that  he  had  been  in  the  strict  training  before  the 
fight;  never,  as  I  gathered,  was  such  a  ruffian  more 
off  his  guard,  or  less  capable  of  protecting  himself 
and  his  possessions,  than  in  these  first  hours  of 
relaxation  and  inevitable  debauchery  for  which 
Raffles  had  waited  with  characteristic  foresight. 
Nor  was  the  terrible  Barney  likely  to  be  more 
abstemious  for  signal  punishment  sustained  in  a 
far  from  bloodless  victory.  Then  what  could  be 
the  meaning  of  that  sickening  and  most  suggestive 
thud?  Could  it  be  the  champion  himself  who  had 
received  the  coup  de  grace  in  his  cups  ?  Raffles  was 
the  very  man  to  administer  it — but  he  had  not 
talked  like  that  man  through  the  telephone. 

And  yet — and  yet — what  else  could  have  hap- 
pened? I  must  have  asked  myself  the  question 
between  each  and  all  of  the  above  reflections,  made 
partly  as  I  dressed  and  partly  in  the  hansom  on 
the  way  to  Half-moon  Street.  It  was  as  yet  the 
only  question  in  my  mind.    You  must  know  what 

1 88 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

your  emergency  is  before  you  can  decide  how  to 
cope  with  it;  and  to  this  day  I  sometimes  tremble 
to  think  of  the  rashly  direct  method  by  which  I 
set  about  obtaining  the  requisite  information.  I 
drove  every  yard  of  the  way  to  the  pugilist's  very 
door.  You  will  remember  that  I  had  been  dining 
with  Swigger  Morrison  at  his  club. 

Yet  at  the  last  I  had  a  rough  idea  of  what  I 
meant  to  say  when  the  door  was  opened.  It 
seemed  almost  probable  that  the  tragic  end  of  our 
talk  over  the  telephone  had  been  caused  by  the 
sudden  arrival  and  as  sudden  violence  of  Barney 
Maguire.  In  that  case  I  was  resolved  to  tell  him 
that  Raffles  and  I  had  made  a  bet  about  his  burglar 
trap,  and  that  I  had  come  to  see  who  had  won.  I 
might  or  might  not  confess  that  Raffles  had  rung 
me  out  of  bed  to  this  end.  If,  however,  I  was 
wrong  about  Maguire,  and  he  had  not  come  home 
at  all,  then  my  action  would  depend  upon  the 
menial  who  answered  my  reckless  ring.  But  it 
should  result  in  the  rescue  of  Raffles  by  hook  or 
crook. 

I  had  the  more  time  to  come  to  some  decision, 
since  I  rang  and  rang  in  vain.  The  hall,  indeed, 
was  in  darkness;  but  when  I  peeped  through  the 
letter-box  I  could  see  a  faint  beam  of  light  from 
the  back  room.     That  was  the  room  in  which 

189 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

Maguire  kept  his  trophies  and  set  his  trap.  All 
was  quiet  in  the  house :  could  they  have  haled  the 
intruder  to  Vine  Street  in  the  short  twenty  minutes 
which  it  had  taken  me  to  dress  and  to  drive  to  the 
spot?  That  was  an  awful  thought;  but  even  as  I 
hoped  against  hope,  and  rang  once  more,  specula- 
tion and  suspense  were  cut  short  in  the  last  fashion 
to  be  foreseen. 

A  brougham  was  coming  sedately  down  the 
street  from  Piccadilly;  to  my  horror,  it  stopped 
behind  me  as  I  peered  once  more  through  the  let- 
ter-box, and  out  tumbled  the  dishevelled  prize- 
fighter and  two  companions.  I  was  nicely  caught 
in  my  turn.  There  was  a  lamp-post  right  oppo- 
site the  door,  and  I  can  still  see  the  three  of  them 
regarding  me  in  its  light.  The  pugilist  had  been 
at  least  a  fine  figure  of  a  bully  and  a  braggart  when 
I  saw  him  before  his  fight;  now  he  had  a  black  eye 
and  a  bloated  lip,  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
made-up  tie  under  one  ear.  His  companions  were 
his  sallow  little  Yankee  secretary,  whose  name  1 
really  forget,  but  whom  I  met  with  Maguire  at 
the  Boxing  Club,  and  a  very  grand  person  in  a 
second  skin  of  shimmering  sequins. 

I  can  neither  forget  nor  report  the  terms  in 
which  Barney  Maguire  asked  me  who  I  was  and 
what  I  was  doing  there.     Thanks,  however,  to 

190 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

Swigger  Morrison's  hospitality,  I  readily  re- 
minded him  of  our  former  meeting,  and  of  more 
that  I  only  recalled  as  the  words  were  in  my 
mouth. 

"You'll  remember  Raffles,"  said  I,  "if  you  don't 
remember  me.  You  showed  us  your  trophies  the 
other  night,  and  asked  us  both  to  look  you  up  at 
any  hour  of  the  day  or  night  after  the  fight." 

I  was  going  on  to  add  that  I  had  expected  to 
find  Raffles  there  before  me,  to  settle  a  wager  that 
we  had  made  about  the  man-trap.  But  the  indis- 
cretion was  interrupted  by  Maguire  himself,  whose 
dreadful  fist  became  a  hand  that  gripped  mine  with 
brute  fervor,  while  with  the  other  he  clouted  me 
on  the  back. 

"You  don't  say!"  he  cried.  "I  took  you  for 
some  darned  crook,  but  now  I  remember  you  per- 
fectly. If  you  hadn't  've  spoke  up  slick  I'd  have 
bu'st  your  face  in,  sonny.  I  would,  sure!  Come 
right  in,  and  have  a  drink  to  show  there's — Jee- 
hoshaphat!" 

The  secretary  had  turned  the  latch-key  in  the 
door,  only  to  be  hauled  back  by  the  collar  as  the 
door  stood  open,  and  the  light  from  the  inner 
room  was  seen  streaming  upon  the  banisters  at  the 
foot  of  the  narrow  stairs. 

"A  light  in  my  den,"  said  Maguire  in  a  mighty 

191 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

whisper,  "and  the  blamed  door  open,  though  the 
key's  in  my  pocket  and  we  left  it  locked!  Talk 
about  crooks,  eh  ?  Holy  smoke,  how  I  hope  we've 
landed  one  alive!  You  ladies  and  gentlemen,  lay 
round  where  you  are,  while  I  see." 

And  the  hulking  figure  advanced  on  tiptoe,  like 
a  performing  elephant,  until  just  at  the  open  door, 
when  for  a  second  we  saw  his  left  revolving  like  a 
piston  and  his  head  thrown  back  at  its  fighting 
angle.  But  in  another  second  his  fists  were  hands 
again,  and  Maguire  was  rubbing  them  together 
as  he  stood  shaking  with  laughter  in  the  light  of 
the  open  door. 

"Walk  up  !"  he  cried,  as  he  beckoned  to  us  three. 
"Walk  up  and  see  one  o'  their  blamed  British 
crooks  laid  as  low  as  the  blamed  carpet,  and 
nailed  as  tight!" 

Imagine  my  feelings  on  the  mat!  The  sallow 
secretary  went  first;  the  sequins  glittered  at  his 
heels,  and  I  must  own  that  for  one  base  moment 
I  was  on  the  brink  of  bolting  through  the  street 
door.  It  had  never  been  shut  behind  us.  I  shut 
it  myself  in  the  end.  Yet  it  was  small  credit  to  me 
that  I  actually  remained  on  the  same  side  of  the 
door  as  Raffles. 

"Reel  home-grown,  low-down,  unwashed  White- 
chapel!"   I  had  heard   Maguire  remark  within. 

192 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

"Blamed  if  our  Bowery  boys  ain't  cock-angels  to 
scum  like  this.  Ah,  you  biter,  I  wouldn't  soil  my 
knuckles  on  your  ugly  face;  but  if  I  had  my  thick 
boots  on  I'd  dance  the  soul  out  of  your  carcass  for 
two  cents !" 

After  this  it  required  less  courage  to  join  the 
others  in  the  inner  room;  and  for  some  moments 
even  I  failed  to  identify  the  truly  repulsive  object 
about  which  I  found  them  grouped.  There  was 
no  false  hair  upon  the  face,  but  it  was  as  black  as 
any  sweep's.  The  clothes,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
new  to  me,  though  older  and  more  pestiferous  in 
themselves  than  most  worn  by  Raffles  for  profes- 
sional purposes.  And  at  first,  as  I  say,  I  was  far 
from  sure  whether  it  was  Raffles  at  all;  but  I  re- 
membered the  crash  that  cut  short  our  talk  over  the 
telephone;  and  this  inanimate  heap  of  rags  was 
lying  directly  underneath  a  wall  instrument,  with 
the  receiver  dangling  over  him. 

"Think  you  know  him?"  asked  the  sallow  secre- 
tary, as  I  stooped  and  peered  with  my  heart  in  my 
boots. 

"Good  Lord,  no!  I  only  wanted  to  see  if  he 
was  dead,"  I  explained,  having  satisfied  myself 
that  it  was  really  Raffles,  and  that  Raffles  was 
really  insensible.  "But  what  on  earth  has  hap- 
pened?" I  asked  in  my  turn. 

193 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  whined  the  per- 
son in  sequins,  who  had  contributed  various  ejacu- 
lations unworthy  of  report,  and  finally  subsided 
behind  an  ostentatious  fan. 

"I  should  judge,"  observed  the  secretary,  "that 
it's  for  Mr.  Maguire  to  say,  or  not  to  say,  just  as 
he  darn  pleases." 

But  the  celebrated  Barney  stood  upon  a  Persian 
hearth-rug,  beaming  upon  us  all  in  a  triumph  too 
delicious  for  immediate  translation  into  words. 
The  room  was  furnished  as  a  study,  and  most 
artistically  furnished,  if  you  consider  outlandish 
shapes  in  fumed  oak  artistic.  There  was  nothing 
of  the  traditional  prize-fighter  about  Barney  Ma- 
guire, except  his  vocabulary  and  his  lower  jaw. 
I  had  seen  over  his  house  already,  and  it  was  fitted 
and  decorated  throughout  by  a  high-art  firm  which 
exhibits  just  such  a  room  as  that  which  was  the 
scene  of  our  tragedietta.  The  person  in  the  se- 
quins lay  glistening  like  a  landed  salmon  in  a 
quaint  chair  of  enormous  nails  and  tapestry  com- 
pact. The  secretary  leaned  against  an  escritoire 
with  huge  hinges  of  beaten  metal.  The  pugilist's 
own  background  presented  an  elaborate  scheme  of 
oak  and  tiles,  with  inglenooks  green  from  the 
joiner,  and  a  china  cupboard  with  leaded  panes 
behind  his  bullet  head.     And  his  bloodshot  eyes 

194 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

rolled  with  rich  delight  from  the  decanter  and 
glasses  on  the  octagonal  table  to  another  decanter 
in  the  quaintest  and  craftiest  of  revolving  spirit 
tables. 

"Isn't  it  bully?"  asked  the  prize-fighter,  smiling 
on  us  each  in  turn,  with  his  black  and  bloodshot 
eyes  and  his  bloated  lip.  "To  think  that  I've  only 
to  invent  a  trap  to  catch  a  crook,  for  a  blamed 
crook  to  walk  right  into!  You,  Mr.  Man,"  and 
he  nodded  his  great  head  at  me,  "you'll  recollect 
me  telling  you  that  I'd  gotten  one  when  you  come 
in  that  night  with  the  other  sport?  Say,  pity 
he's  not  with  you  now;  he  was  a  good  boy,  and  I 
liked  him  a  lot;  but  he  wanted  to  know  too  much, 
and  I  guess  he'd  got  to  want.  But  I'm  liable  to 
tell  you  now,  or  else  bu'st.  See  that  decanter  on 
the  table?" 

"I  was  just  looking  at  it,"  said  the  person  in 
sequins.  "You  don't  know  what  a  turn  I've  had, 
or  you'd  offer  me  a  little  something." 

"You  shall  have  a  little  something  in  a  minute," 
rejoined  Maguire.  "But  if  you  take  a  little  any- 
thing out  of  that  decanter,  you'll  collapse  like  our 
friend  upon  the  floor." 

"Good  heavens!"  I  cried  out,  with  involuntary 
indignation,  and  his  fell  scheme  broke  upon  me  in 
a  clap. 

195 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Yes,  sir!"  said  Maguire,  fixing  me  with  his 
bloodshot  orbs.  "My  trap  for  crooks  and  cracks- 
men is  a  bottle  of  hocussed  whiskey,  and  I  guess 
that's  it  on  the  table,  with  the  silver  label  around 
its  neck.  Now  look  at  this  other  decanter,  with- 
out any  label  at  all;  but  for  that  they're  the  dead 
spit  of  each  other.  I'll  put  them  side  by  side,  so 
you  can  see.  It  isn't  only  the  decanters,  but  the 
liquor  looks  the  same  in  both,  and  tastes  so  you 
wouldn't  know  the  difference  till  you  woke  up  in 
your  tracks.  I  got  the  poison  from  a  blamed 
Indian  away  west,  and  it's  ruther  ticklish  stuff. 
So  I  keep  the  label  around  the  trap-bottle,  and 
only  leave  it  out  nights.  That's  the  idea,  and 
that's  all  there  is  to  it,"  added  Maguire,  putting 
the  labelled  decanter  back  in  the  stand.  "But  I 
figure  it's  enough  for  ninety-nine  crooks  out  of  a 
hundred,  and  nineteen  out  of  twenty  '11  have  their 
liquor  before  they  go  to  work." 

"I  wouldn't  figure  on  that,"  observed  the  secre- 
tary, with  a  downward  glance  as  though  at  the 
prostrate  Raffles.  "Have  you  looked  to  see  if  the 
trophies  are  all  safe?" 

"Not  yet,"  said  Maguire,  with  a  glance  at  the 
pseudo-antique  cabinet  in  which  he  kept  them. 

"Then  you  can  save  yourself  the  trouble,"  re- 
joined the  secretary,  as  he  dived  under  the  octa- 

196 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

gonal  table,  and  came  up  with  a  small  black  bag 
that  I  knew  at  a  glance.  It  was  the  one  that 
Raffles  had  used  for  heavy  plunder  ever  since  I 
had  known  him. 

The  bag  was  so  heavy  now  that  the  secretary 
used  both  hands  to  get  it  on  the  table.  In  another 
moment  he  had  taken  out  the  jewelled  belt  pre- 
sented to  Maguire  by  the  State  of  Nevada,  the 
solid  silver  statuette  of  himself,  and  the  gold  brick 
from  the  citizens  of  Sacramento. 

Either  the  sight  of  his  treasures,  so  nearly  lost, 
or  the  feeling  that  the  thief  had  dared  to  tamper 
with  them  after  all,  suddenly  infuriated  Maguire 
to  such  an  extent  that  he  had  bestowed  a  couple  of 
brutal  kicks  upon  the  senseless  form  of  Raffles  be- 
fore the  secretary  and  I  could  interfere. 

"Play  light,  Mr.  Maguire!"  cried  the  sallow 
secretary.    "The  man's  drugged,  as  well  as  down." 

"He'll  be  lucky  if  he  ever  gets  up,  blight  and 
blister  him!" 

"I  should  judge  it  about  time  to  telephone  for 
the  police." 

"Not  till  I've  done  with  him.  Wait  till  he 
comes  to!  I  guess  I'll  punch  his  face  into  a  jam 
pudding !  He  shall  wash  down  his  teeth  with  his 
blood  before  the  coppers  come  in  for  what's  left!" 

"You  make  me  feel  quite  ill,"  complained  the 

197 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

grand  lady  in  the  chair.  "I  wish  you'd  give  me  a 
little  something,  and  not  be  more  vulgar  than  you 
can  'elp." 

"Help  yourself,"  said  Maguire,  ungallantly, 
"and  don't  talk  through  your  hat.  Say,  what's 
the  matter  with  the  'phone?" 

The  secretary  had  picked  up  the  dangling 
receiver. 

"It  looks  to  me,"  said  he,  "as  though  the  crook 
had  rung  up  somebody  before  he  went  off." 

I  turned  and  assisted  the  grand  lady  to  the 
refreshment  that  she  craved. 

"Like  his  cheek!"  Maguire  thundered.  "But 
who  in  blazes  should  he  ring  up  ?" 

"It'll  all  come  out,"  said  the  secretary.  "They'll 
tell  us  at  the  central,  and  we  shall  find  out  fast 
enough." 

"It  don't  matter  now,"  said  Maguire.  "Let's 
have  a  drink  and  then  rouse  the  devil  up." 

But  now  I  was  shaking  in  my  shoes.  I  saw 
quite  clearly  what  this  meant.  Even  if  I  rescued 
Raffles  for  the  time  being,  the  police  would 
promptly  ascertain  that  it  was  I  who  had  been 
rung  up  by  the  burglar,  and  the  fact  of  my  not 
having  said  a  word  about  it  would  be  directly 
damning  to  me,  if  in  the  end  it  did  not  incriminate 
us  both.     It  made  me  quite  faint  to  feel  that  we 

198 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

might  escape  the  Scylla  of  our  present  peril  and 
yet  split  on  the  Charybdis  of  circumstantial  evi- 
dence. Yet  I  could  see  no  middle  course  of  con- 
ceivable safety,  if  I  held  my  tongue  another 
moment.  So  I  spoke  up  desperately,  with  the  rash 
resolution  which  was  the  novel  feature  of  my 
whole  conduct  on  this  occasion.  But  any  sheep 
would  be  resolute  and  rash  after  dining  with  Swig- 
ger  Morrison  at  his  club. 

"I  wonder  if  he  rang  me  up?"  I  exclaimed,  as 
if  inspired. 

"You,  sonny?"  echoed  Maguire,  decanter  in 
hand.  "What  in  hell  could  he  know  about 
you?" 

"Or  what  could  you  know  about  him?" 
amended  the  secretary,  fixing  me  with  eyes  like 
drills. 

"Nothing,"  I  admitted,  regretting  my  temerity 
with  all  my  heart.  "But  some  one  did  ring  me  up 
about  an  hour  ago.  I  thought  it  was  Raffles.  I 
told  you  I  expected  to  find  him  here,  if  you 
remember." 

"But  I  don't  see  what  that's  got  to  do  with  the 
crook,"  pursued  the  secretary,  with  his  relentless 
eyes  boring  deeper  and  deeper  into  mine. 

"No  more  do  I,"  was  my  miserable  reply.  But 
there  was  a  certain  comfort  in  his  words,  and  some 

199 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

simultaneous  promise  in  the  quantity  of  spirit 
which  Maguire  splashed  into  his  glass. 

"Were  you  cut  off  sudden?"  asked  the  secretary, 
reaching  for  the  decanter,  as  the  three  of  us  sat 
round  the  octagonal  table. 

"So  suddenly,"  I  replied,  "that  I  never  knew 
who  it  was  who  rang  me  up.  No,  thank  you — 
not  any  for  me." 

"What!"  cried  Maguire,  raising  a  depressed 
head  suddenly.  "You  won't  have  a  drink  in  my 
house?  Take  care,  young  man.  That's  not  being 
a  good  boy!" 

"But  I've  been  dining  out,"  I  expostulated,  "and 
had  my  whack.     I  really  have." 

Barney  Maguire  smote  the  table  with  terrific 
fist. 

"Say,  sonny,  I  like  you  a  lot,"  said  he.  "But  I 
shan't  like  you  any  if  you're  not  a  good  boy!" 

"Very  well,  very  well,"  I  said  hurriedly.  "One 
finger,  if  I  must." 

And  the  secretary  helped  me  to  not  more  than 
two. 

"Why  should  it  have  been  your  friend  Raffles?" 
he  inquired,  returning  remorselessly  to  the  charge, 
while  Maguire  roared  "Drink  up!"  and  then 
drooped  once  more. 

"I  was  half  asleep,"  I  answered,  "and  he  was 

200 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

the  first  person  who  occurred  to  me.  We  are  both 
on  the  telephone,  you  see.  And  we  had  made  a 
bet " 

The  glass  was  at  my  lips,  but  I  was  able  to  set 
it  down  untouched.  Maguire's  huge  jaw  had 
dropped  upon  his  spreading  shirt-front,  and  be- 
yond him  I  saw  the  person  in  sequins  fast  asleep 
in  the  artistic  armchair. 

"What  bet?"  asked  a  voice  with  a  sudden  start 
in  it.  The  secretary  was  blinking  as  he  drained  his 
glass. 

"About  the  very  thing  we've  just  had  explained 
to  us,"  said  I,  watching  my  man  intently  as  I  spoke. 
"I  made  sure  it  was  a  man-trap.  Raffles  thought  it 
must  be  something  else.  We  had  a  tremendous 
argument  about  it.  Raffles  said  it  wasn't  a  man- 
trap. I  said  it  was.  We  had  a  bet  about  it  in  the 
end.  I  put  my  money  on  the  man-trap.  Raffles 
put  his  upon  the  other  thing.  And  Raffles  was 
right — it  wasn't  a  man-trap.  But  it's  every  bit  as 
good — every  little  bit — and  the  whole  boiling  of 
you  are  caught  in  it  except  me !" 

I  sank  my  voice  with  the  last  sentence,  but  I 
might  just  as  well  have  raised  it  instead.  I  had 
said  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again  to  see 
whether  the  wilful  tautology  would  cause  the  sec- 
retary to  open  his  eyes.    It  seemed  to  have  had  the 

201 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

very  opposite  effect.  His  head  fell  forward  on  the 
table,  with  never  a  quiver  at  the  blow,  never  a 
twitch  when  I  pillowed  it  upon  one  of  his  own 
sprawling  arms.  And  there  sat  Maguire  bolt  up- 
right, but  for  the  jowl  upon  his  shirt-front,  while 
the  sequins  twinkled  in  a  regular  rise  and  fall  upon 
the  reclining  form  of  the  lady  in  the  fanciful  chair. 
All  three  were  sound  asleep,  by  what  accident  or  by 
whose  design  I  did  not  pause  to  inquire;  it  was 
enough  to  ascertain  the  fact  beyond  all  chance  of 
error. 

I  turned  my  attention  to  Raffles  last  of  all. 
There  was  the  other  side  of  the  medal.  Raffles 
was  still  sleeping  as  sound  as  the  enemy — or  so  I 
feared  at  first.  I  shook  him  gently:  he  made  no 
sign.  I  introduced  vigor  into  the  process:  he  mut- 
tered incoherently.  I  caught  and  twisted  an  unre- 
sisting wrist — and  at  that  he  yelped  profanely. 
But  it  was  many  and  many  an  anxious  moment  be- 
fore his  blinking  eyes  knew  mine. 

"Bunny!"  he  yawned,  and  nothing  more  until 
/his  position  came  back  to  him.  "So  you  came  to 
me,"  he  went  on,  in  a  tone  that  thrilled  me  with 
its  affectionate  appreciation,  "as  I  knew  you  would ! 
Have  they  turned  up  yet?  They  will  any  minute, 
you  know;  there's  not  one  to  lose." 

"No,  they  won't,  old  man!"  I  whispered.    And 

202 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

he  sat  up  and  saw  the  comatose  trio  for  him- 
self. 

Raffles  seemed  less  amazed  at  the  result  than  I 
had  been  as  a  puzzled  witness  of  the  process;  on 
the  other  hand,  I  had  never  seen  anything  quite  so 
exultant  as  the  smile  that  broke  through  his  black- 
ened countenance  like  a  light.  It  was  all  obviously 
no  great  surprise,  and  no  puzzle  at  all,  to  Raffles. 

"How  much  did  they  have,  Bunny?"  were  his 
first  whispered  words. 

"Maguire  a  good  three  fingers,  and  the  others 
at  least  two." 

"Then  we  needn't  lower  our  voices,  and  we 
needn't  walk  on  our  toes.  Eheu !  I  dreamed 
somebody  was  kicking  me  in  the  ribs,  and  I  be- 
lieve it  must  have  been  true." 

He  had  risen  with  a  hand  to  his  side  and  a  wry 
look  on  his  sweep's  face. 

"You  can  guess  which  of  them  it  was,"  said  I. 
"The  beast  is  jolly  well  served!" 

And  I  shook  my  fist  in  the  paralytic  face  of  the 
most  brutal  bruiser  of  his  time. 

"He  is  safe  till  the  forenoon,  unless  they  bring 
a  doctor  to  him,"  said  Raffles.  "I  don't  suppose 
we  could  rouse  him  now  if  we  tried.  How  much 
of  the  fearsome  stuff  do  you  suppose  /  took? 
About  a  tablespoon  ful!     I  guessed  what  it  was, 

203 


"1 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

and  couldn't  resist  making  sure;  the  minute  I  was 
satisfied,  I  changed  the  label  and  the  position  of 
the  two  decanters,  little  thinking  I  should  stay  to 
see  the  fun;  but  in  another  minute  I  could  hardly 
keep  my  eyes  open.  I  realized  then  that  I  was 
fairly  poisoned  with  some  subtle  drug.  If  I  left 
the  house  at  all  in  that  state,  I  must  leave  the  spoil 
behind,  or  be  found  drunk  in  the  gutter  with  my 
head  on  the  swag  itself.  In  any  case  I  should  have 
been  picked  up  and  run  in,  and  that  might  have  led 
to  anything." 

'So  you  rang  me  up !" 

'It  was  my  last  brilliant  inspiration — a  sort  of 
flash  in  the  brain-pan  before  the  end — and  I  re- 
member very  little  about  it.  I  was  more  asleep 
than  awake  at  the  time." 

"You  sounded  like  it,  Raffles,  now  that  one  has 
the  clue." 

"I  can't  remember  a  word  I  said,  or  what  was 
the  end  of  it,  Bunny." 

"You  fell  in  a  heap  before  you  came  to  the 
end." 

"You  didn't  hear  that  through  the  telephone?" 

"As  though  we  had  been  in  the  same  room: 
only  I  thought  it  was  Maguire  who  had  stolen  a 
march  on  you  and  knocked  you  out." 

I  had  never  seen  Raffles  more  interested  and 

204 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

impressed;  but  at  this  point  his  smile  altered,  his 
eyes  softened,  and  I  found  my  hand  in  his. 

"You  thought  that,  and  yet  you  came  like  a 
shot  to  do  battle  for  my  body  with  Barney  Ma- 
guire  !  Jack-the-Giant-killer  wasn't  in  it  with  you, 
Bunny!" 

"It  was  no  credit  to  me — it  was  rather  the  other 
thing,"  said  I,  remembering  my  rashness  and  my 
luck,  and  confessing  both  in  a  breath.  "You 
know  old  Swigger  Morrison?"  I  added  in  final 
explanation.  "I  had  been  dining  with  him  at  his 
club!" 

Raffles  shook  his  long  old  head.  And  the 
kindly  light  in  his  eyes  was  still  my  infinite 
reward. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  he,  "how  deeply  you  had 
been  dining:  in  vino  Veritas,  Bunny,  and  your 
pluck  would  always  out!  I  have  never  doubted 
it,  and  I  never  shall.  In  fact,  I  rely  on  nothing 
else  to  get  us  out  of  this  mess." 

My  face  must  have  fallen,  as  my  heart  sank 
at  these  words.  I  had  said  to  myself  that  we 
were  out  of  the  mess  already — that  we  had  merely 
to  make  a  clean  escape  from  the  house — now  the 
easiest  thing  in  the  world.  But  as  I  looked  at  Raf- 
fles, and  as  Raffles  looked  at  me,  on  the  threshold 
of  the  room  where  the  three  sleepers  slept  on  with- 

205 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

out  sound  or  movement,  I  grasped  the  real  prob- 
lem that  lay  before  us.  It  was  twofold;  and  the 
funny  thing  was  that  I  had  seen  both  horns  of  the 
dilemma  for  myself,  before  Raffles  came  to  his 
senses.  But  with  Raffles  in  his  right  mind,  I  had 
ceased  to  apply  my  own,  or  to  carry  my  share  of 
our  common  burden  another  inch.  It  had  been 
an  unconscious  withdrawal  on  my  part,  an  instinc- 
tive tribute  to  my  leader;  but  I  was  sufficiently 
ashamed  of  it  as  we  stood  and  faced  the  problem 
in  each  other's  eyes. 

"If  we  simply  cleared  out,"  continued  Raffles, 
"you  would  be  incriminated  in  the  first  place  as 
my  accomplice,  and  once  they  had  you  they  would 
have  a  compass  with  the  needle  pointing  straight 
to  me.  They  mustn't  have  either  of  us,  Bunny, 
or  they  will  get  us  both.  And  for  my  part  they 
may  as  well!" 

I  echoed  a  sentiment  that  was  generosity  itself 
in  Raffles,  but  in  my  case  a  mere  truism. 

"It's  easy  enough  for  me,"  he  went  on.  "I  am 
a  common  house-breaker,  and  I  escape.  They 
don't  know  me  from  Noah.  But  they  do  know 
you;  and  how  do  you  come  to  let  me  escape? 
What  has  happened  to  you,  Bunny?  That's  the 
crux.  What  could  have  happened  after  they  all 
dropped  off?"    And  for  a  minute  Raffles  frowned 

206 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

and  smiled  like  a  sensation  novelist  working  out 
a  plot;  then  the  light  broke,  and  transfigured  him 
through  his  burnt  cork.  "I've  got  it,  Bunny !"  he 
exclaimed.  "You  took  some  of  the  stuff  yourself, 
though  of  course  not  nearly  so  much  as  they 
did. 

"Splendid!"  I  cried.  "They  really  were  press- 
ing it  upon  me  at  the  end,  and  I  did  say  it  must  be 
very  little." 

"You  dozed  off  in  your  turn,  but  you  were 
naturally  the  first  to  come  to  yourself.  I  had 
flown;  so  had  the  gold  brick,  the  jewelled  belt, 
and  the  silver  statuette.  You  tried  to  rouse  the 
others.  You  couldn't  succeed;  nor  would  you  if 
you  did  try.  So  what  did  you  do?  What's  the 
only  really  innocent  thing  you  could  do  in  the 
circumstances?" 

"Go  for  the  police,"  I  suggested  dubiously, 
little  relishing  the  prospect. 

"There's  a  telephone  installed  for  the  purpose," 
said  Raffles.  "I  should  ring  them  up,  if  I  were 
you.  Try  not  to  look  blue  about  it,  Bunny. 
They're  quite  the  nicest  fellows  in  the  world,  and 
what  you  have  to  tell  them  is  a  mere  microbe  to 
the  camels  I've  made  them  swallow  without  a 
grain  of  salt.  It's  really  the  most  convincing  story 
one  could  conceive;  but  unfortunately  there's  an- 

207 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

other  point  which  will  take  more  explaining 
away." 

And  even  Raffles  looked  grave  enough  as  I 
nodded. 

"You  mean  that  they'll  find  out  you  rang  me 
up?" 

"They  may,"  said  Raffles.  "I  see  that  I  man- 
aged to  replace  the  receiver  all  right.  But  still — 
they  may." 

"I'm  afraid  they  will,"  said  I,  uncomfortably. 
"I'm  very  much  afraid  I  gave  something  of  the 
kind  away.  You  see,  you  had  not  replaced  the  re- 
ceiver; it  was  dangling  over  you  where  you  lay. 
This  very  question  came  up,  and  the  brutes  them- 
selves seemed  so  quick  to  see  its  possibilities  that 
I  thought  best  to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns  and 
own  that  I  had  been  rung  up  by  somebody.  To  be 
absolutely  honest,  I  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  I 
thought  it  was  Raffles  !" 

"You  didn't,  Bunny!" 

"What  could  I  say?  I  was  obliged  to  think 
of  somebody,  and  I  saw  they  were  not  going  to 
recognize  you.  So  I  put  up  a  yarn  about  a  wager 
we  had  made  about  this  very  trap  of  Maguire's. 
You  see,  Raffles,  I've  never  properly  told  you  how 
I  got  in,  and  there's  no  time  now;  but  the  first 
thing  I  had  said  was  that  I  half  expected  to  find 

208 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

you  here  before  me.  That  was  in  case  they  spotted 
you  at  once.  But  it  made  all  that  part  about  the 
telephone  fit  in  rather  well." 

"I  should  think  it  did,  Bunny,"  murmured 
Raffles,  in  a  tone  that  added  sensibly  to  my  re- 
ward. "I  couldn't  have  done  better  myself,  and 
you  will  forgive  my  saying  that  you  have  never 
in  your  life  done  half  so  well.  Talk  about  that 
crack  you  gave  me  on  the  head !  You  have  made 
it  up  to  me  a  hundredfold  by  all  you  have 
done  to-night.  But  the  bother  of  it  is  that 
there's  still  so  much  to  do,  and  to  hit  upon, 
and  so  precious  little  time  for  thought  as  well 
as  action." 

I  took  out  my  watch  and  showed  it  to  Raffles 
without  a  word.  It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  latter  end  of  March.  In  little  more 
than  an  hour  there  would  be  dim  daylight  in  the 
streets.  Raffles  roused  himself  from  a  reverie 
with  sudden  decision. 

"There's  only  one  thing  for  it,  Bunny,"  said 
he.  "We  must  trust  each  other  and  divide  the 
labor.  You  ring  up  the  police,  and  leave  the  rest 
to  me." 


if 


'You  haven't  hit  upon  any  reason  for  the  sort 
of  burglar  they  think  you  were,  ringing  up  the 
kind  of  man  they  know  I  am  ?" 

209 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"Not  yet,  Bunny,  but  I  shall.  It  may  not  be 
wanted  for  a  day  or  so,  and  after  all  it  isn't  for 
you  to  give  the  explanation.  It  would  be  highly 
suspicious  if  you  did." 

"So  it  would,"  I  agreed. 

"Then  will  you  trust  me  to  hit  on  something — 
if  possible  before  morning — in  any  case  by  the 
time  it's  wanted?  I  won't  fail  you,  Bunny.  You 
must  see  how  I  can  never,  never  fail  you  after 
to-night!" 

That  settled  it.  I  gripped  his  hand  without 
another  word,  and  remained  on  guard  over  the 
three  sleepers  while  Raffles  stole  upstairs.  I  have 
since  learned  that  there  were  servants  at  the  top 
of  the  house,  and  in  the  basement  a  man,  who 
actually  heard  some  of  our  proceedings!  But  he 
was  mercifully  too  accustomed  to  nocturnal  orgies, 
and  those  of  a  far  more  uproarious  character,  to 
appear  unless  summoned  to  the  scene.  I  believe 
he  heard  Raffles  leave.  But  no  secret  was  made 
of  his  exit:  he  let  himself  out,  and  told  me  after- 
ward that  the  first  person  he  encountered  in  the 
street  was  the  constable  on  the  beat.  Raffles 
wished  him  good-morning,  as  well  he  might;  for 
he  had  been  upstairs  to  wash  his  face  and  hands; 
and  in  the  prize-fighter's  great  hat  and  fur  coat 
he   might   have   marched   round    Scotland   Yard 

210 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

itself,  in  spite  of  his  having  the  gold  brick  from 
Sacramento  in  one  pocket,  the  silver  statuette  of 
Maguire  in  the  other,  and  round  his  waist  the 
jewelled  belt  presented  to  that  worthy  by  the  State 
of  Nevada. 

My  immediate  part  was  a  little  hard  after  the 
excitement  of  those  small  hours.  I  will  only  say 
that  we  had  agreed  that  it  would  be  wisest  for  me 
to  lie  like  a  log  among  the  rest  for  half  an  hour, 
before  staggering  to  my  feet  and  rousing  house 
and  police;  and  that  in  that  half-hour  Barney  Ma- 
guire crashed  to  the  floor,  without  waking  either 
himself  or  his  companions,  though  not  without 
bringing  my  beating  heart  into  the  very  roof  of 
my  mouth. 

It  was  daybreak  when  I  gave  the  alarm  with 
bell  and  telephone.  In  a  few  minutes  we  had 
the  house  congested  with  dishevelled  domestics, 
irascible  doctors,  and  arbitrary  minions  of  the 
law.  If  I  told  my  story  once,  I  told  it  a  dozen 
times,  and  all  on  an  empty  stomach.  But  it  was 
certainly  a  most  plausible  and  consistent  tale,  even 
without  that  confirmation  which  none  of  the  other 
victims  was  as  yet  sufficiently  recovered  to  supply. 
And  in  the  end  I  was  permitted  to  retire  from  the 
scene  until  required  to  give  further  information, 
or  to  identify  the  prisoner  whom  the  good  police 

211 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

confidently  expected  to  make  before  the  day  was 
out. 

I  drove  straight  to  the  flat.  The  porter  flew 
to  help  me  out  of  my  hansom.  His  face  alarmed 
me  more  than  any  I  had  left  in  Half-moon  Street. 
It  alone  might  have  spelled  my  ruin. 

"Your  flat's  been  entered  in  the  night,  sir,"  he 
cried.  "The  thieves  have  taken  everything  they 
could  lay  hands  on." 

"Thieves  in  my  flat!"  I  ejaculated  aghast. 
There  were  one  or  two  incriminating  possessions 
up  there,  as  well  as  at  the  Albany. 

"The  door's  been  forced  with  a  jimmy,"  said 
the  porter.  "It  was  the  milkman  who  found  it 
out.    There's  a  constable  up  there  now." 

A  constable  poking  about  in  my  flat  of  all 
others!  I  rushed  upstairs  without  waiting  for 
the  lift.  The  invader  was  moistening  his  pencil 
between  laborious  notes  in  a  fat  pocketbook;  he 
had  penetrated  no  further  than  the  forced  door. 
I  dashed  past  him  in  a  fever.  I  kept  my  trophies 
in  a  wardrobe  drawer  specially  fitted  with  a  Bra- 
mah  lock.  The  lock  was  broken — the  drawer 
void. 

"Something  valuable,  sir?"  inquired  the  intru- 
sive constable  at  my  heels. 

"Yes,  indeed — some  old  family  silver,"  I  an- 

212 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

swered.  It  was  quite  true.  But  the  family  was 
not  mine. 

And  not  till  then  did  the  truth  flash  across  my 
mind.  Nothing  else  of  value  had  been  taken.  But 
there  was  a  meaningless  litter  in  all  the  rooms.  I 
turned  to  the  porter,  who  had  followed  me  up 
from  the  street;  it  was  his  wife  who  looked  after 
the  flat. 

"Get  rid  of  this  idiot  as  quick  as  you  can,"  I 
whispered.  "I'm  going  straight  to  Scotland  Yard 
myself.  Let  your  wife  tidy  the  place  while  I'm 
gone,  and  have  the  lock  mended  before  she  leaves. 
I'm  going  as  I  am,  this  minute !" 

And  go  I  did,  in  the  first  hansom  I  could  find 
— but  not  straight  to  Scotland  Yard.  I  stopped 
the  cab  in  Picadilly  on  the  way. 

Old  Raffles  opened  his  own  door  to  me.  I 
cannot  remember  finding  him  fresher,  more  im- 
maculate, more  delightful  to  behold  in  every  way. 
Could  I  paint  a  picture  of  Raffles  with  something 
other  than  my  pen,  it  would  be  as  I  saw  him  that 
bright  March  morning,  at  his  open  door  in  the 
Albany,  a  trim,  slim  figure  in  matutinal  gray,  cool 
and  gay  and  breezy  as  incarnate  spring. 

"What  on  earth  did  you  do  it  for?"  I  asked 
within. 

"It  was  the  only  solution,"  he  answered,  hand- 

213 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

ing  me  the  cigarettes.  "I  saw  it  the  moment  I  got 
outside." 

"I  don't  see  it  yet." 

"Why  should  a  burglar  call  an  innocent  gen- 
tleman away  from  home?" 

"That's  what  we  couldn't  make  out." 

"I  tell  you  I  got  it  directly  I  had  left  you.  He 
called  you  away  in  order  to  burgle  you  too,  of 
course!" 

And  Raffles  stood  smiling  upon  me  in  all  his 
incomparable  radiance  and  audacity. 

"But  why  me  ?"  I  asked.  "Why  on  earth  should 
he  burgle  me?" 

"My  dear  Bunny,  we  must  leave  something  to 
the  imagination  of  the  police.  But  we  will  assist 
them  to  a  fact  or  two  in  due  season.  It  was  the 
dead  of  night  when  Maguire  first  took  us  to  his 
house;  it  was  at  the  Imperial  Boxing  Club  we  met 
him;  and  you  meet  queer  fish  at  the  Imperial  Box- 
ing Club.  You  may  remember  that  he  telephoned 
to  his  man  to  prepare  supper  for  us,  and  that  you 
and  he  discussed  telephones  and  treasure  as  we 
marched  through  the  midnight  streets.  He  was 
certainly  bucking  about  his  trophies,  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  argument  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
admit  that  you  probably  bucked  about  yours. 
What  happens?    You  are  overheard;  you  are  fol- 

214 


A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Cracksman 

lowed ;  you  are  worked  into  the  same  scheme,  and 
robbed  on  the  same  night." 

"And  you  really  think  this  will  meet  the  case?" 

"I  am  quite  certain  of  it,  Bunny,  so  far  as  it 
rests  with  us  to  meet  the  case  at  all." 

"Then  give  me  another  cigarette,  my  dear  fel- 
low, and  let  me  push  on  to  Scotland  Yard." 

Raffles  held  up  both  hands  in  admiring  horror. 

"Scotland  Yard!" 

"To  give  a  false  description  of  what  you  took 
from  that  drawer  in  my  wardrobe." 

"A  false  description!  Bunny,  you  have  no 
more  to  learn  from  me.  Time  was  when  I 
wouldn't  have  let  you  go  there  without  me  to 
retrieve  a  lost  umbrella — let  alone  a  lost  cause!" 

And  for  once  I  was  not  sorry  for  Raffles  to  have 
the  last  unworthy  word,  as  he  stood  once  more  at 
his  outer  door  and  gayly  waved  me  down  the 
stairs. 


215 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

THERE  was  one  deed  of  those  days  which 
deserved  a  place  in  our  original  annals.  It 
is  the  deed  of  which  I  am  personally  most  ashamed. 
I  have  traced  the  course  of  a  score  of  felonies, 
from  their  source  in  the  brain  of  Raffles  to  their 
issue  in  his  hands.  I  have  omitted  all  mention  of 
the  one  which  emanated  from  my  own  miserable 
mind.  But  in  these  supplementary  memoirs, 
wherein  I  pledged  myself  to  extenuate  nothing 
more  that  I  might  have  to  tell  of  Raffles,  it  is  only 
fair  that  I  should  make  as  clean  a  breast  of  my  own 
baseness.  It  was  I,  then,  and  I  alone,  who  out- 
raged natural  sentiment,  and  trampled  the  expir- 
ing embers  of  elementary  decency,  by  proposing 
and  planning  the  raid  upon  my  own  old  home. 

I  would  not  accuse  myself  the  more  vehemently 
by  making  excuses  at  this  point.  Yet  I  feel  bound 
to  state  that  it  was  already  many  years  since  the 
place  had  passed  from  our  possession  into  that  of 
an  utter  alien,  against  whom  I  harbored  a  preju- 
dice which  was  some  excuse  in  itself.  He  had  en- 
larged  and   altered   the   dear   old   place   out   of 

216 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

knowledge;  nothing  had  been  good  enough  for 
him  as  it  stood  in  our  day.  The  man  was  a  hunt- 
ing maniac,  and  where  my  dear  father  used  to 
grow  prize  peaches  under  glass,  this  vandal 
was  soon  stabling  his  hothouse  thoroughbreds, 
which  took  prizes  in  their  turn  at  all  the  country 
shows.  It  was  a  southern  county,  and  I  never 
went  down  there  without  missing  another  green- 
house and  noting  a  corresponding  extension  to  the 
stables.  Not  that  I  ever  set  foot  in  the  grounds 
from  the  day  we  left;  but  for  some  years  I  used  to 
visit  old  friends  in  the  neighborhood,  and  could 
never  resist  the  temptation  to  reconnoitre  the 
scenes  of  my  childhood.  And  so  far  as  could  be 
seen  from  the  road — which  it  stood  too  near — 
the  house  itself  appeared  to  be  the  one  thing 
that  the  horsey  purchaser  had  left  much  as  he 
found  it. 

My  only  other  excuse  may  be  none  at  all  in  any 
eyes  but  mine.  It  was  my  passionate  desire  at  this 
period  to  "keep  up  my  end"  with  Raffles  in  every 
department  of  the  game  felonious.  He  would 
insist  upon  an  equal  division  of  all  proceeds;  it 
was  for  me  to  earn  my  share.  So  far  I  had  been 
useful  only  at  a  pinch ;  the  whole  credit  of  any  real 
success  belonged  invariably  to  Raffles.  It  had 
always  been   his   idea.     That  was   the  tradition 

217 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

which  I  sought  to  end,  and  no  means  could  com- 
pare with  that  of  my  unscrupulous  choice.  There 
was  the  one  house  in  England  of  which  I  knew 
every  inch,  and  Raffles  only  what  I  told  him.  For 
once  I  must  lead,  and  Raffles  follow,  whether  he 
liked  it  or  not.  He  saw  that  himself;  and  I  think 
he  liked  it  better  than  he  liked  me  for  the  desecra- 
tion in  view;  but  I  had  hardened  my  heart,  and  his 
feelings  were  too  fine  for  actual  remonstrance  on 
such  a  point. 

I,  in  my  obduracy,  went  to  foul  extremes.  I 
drew  plans  of  all  the  floors  from  memory.  I  actu- 
ally descended  upon  my  friends  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, with  the  sole  object  of  obtaining  snap-shots 
over  our  own  old  garden  wall.  Even  Raffles  could 
not  keep  his  eyebrows  down  when  I  showed  him  the 
prints  one  morning  in  the  Albany.  But  he  con- 
fined his  open  criticisms  to  the  house. 

"Built  in  the  late  'sixties,  I  see,"  said  Raffles, 
"or  else  very  early  in  the  'seventies." 

"Exactly  when  it  was  built,"  I  replied.  "But 
that's  worthy  of  a  sixpenny  detective,  Raffles! 
How  on  earth  did  you  know?" 

"That  slate  tower  bang  over  the  porch,  with 
the  dormer  windows  and  the  iron  railing  and  flag- 
staff atop  makes  us  a  present  of  the  period.  You 
see  them  on  almost  every  house  of  a  certain  size 

218 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

built  about  thirty  years  ago.  They  are  quite  the 
most  useless  excrescences  I  know." 

"Ours  wasn't,"  I  answered,  with  some  warmth. 
"It  was  my  sanctum  sanctorum  in  the  holidays.  I 
smoked  my  first  pipe  up  there,  and  wrote  my  first 
verses!" 

Raffles  laid  a  kindly  hand  upon  my  shoulder. 

"Bunny,  Bunny,  you  can  rob  the  old  place,  and 
yet  you  can't  hear  a  word  against  it !" 

"That's  different,"  said  I  relentlessly.  "The 
tower  was  there  in  my  time,  but  the  man  I  mean  to 
rob  was  not." 

"You  really  do  mean  to  do  it,  Bunny?" 

"By  myself,  if  necessary!"  I  averred. 

"Not  again,  Bunny,  not  again,"  rejoined  Raf- 
fles, laughing  as  he  shook  his  head.  "But  do  you 
think  the  man  has  enough  to  make  it  worth  our 
while  to  go  so  far  afield?" 

"Far  afield !  It's  not  forty  miles  on  the  London 
and  Brighton." 

"Well,  that's  as  bad  as  a  hundred  on  most  lines. 
And  when  did  you  say  it  was  to  be?" 

"Friday  week." 

"I  don't  much  like  a  Friday,  Bunny.  Why 
make  it  one?" 

"It's  the  night  of  their  Hunt  Point-to-Point. 
They  wind  up  the  season  with  it  every  year;  and 

219 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

the  bloated  Guillemard  usually  sweeps  the  board 
with  his  fancy  flyers." 

"You  mean  the  man  in  your  old  house?" 

"Yes;  and  he  tops  up  with  no  end  of  dinner 
there,"  I  went  on,  "to  his  hunting  pals  and  the 
bloods  who  ride  for  him.  If  the  festive  board 
doesn't  groan  under  a  new  regiment  of  challenge 
cups,  it  will  be  no  fault  of  theirs,  and  old  Guille- 
mard will  have  to  do  them  top-hole  all  the  same." 

"So  it's  a  case  of  common  pot-hunting,"  re- 
marked Raffles,  eyeing  me  shrewdly  through  the 
cigarette  smoke. 

"Not  for  us,  my  dear  fellow,"  I  made  answer 
in  his  own  tone.  "I  wouldn't  ask  you  to  break 
into  the  next  set  of  chambers  here  in  the  Albany 
for  a  few  pieces  of  modern  silver,  Raffles.  Not 
that  we  need  scorn  the  cups  if  we  get  a  chance  of 
lifting  them,  and  if  Guillemard  does  so  in  the  first 
instance.  It's  by  no  means  certain  that  he  will. 
But  it  is  pretty  certain  to  be  a  lively  night  for  him 
and  his  pals — and  a  vulnerable  one  for  the  best 
bedroom !" 

"Capital !"  said  Raffles,  throwing  coits  of  smoke 
between  his  smiles.  "Still,  if  it's  a  dinner-party, 
the  hostess  won't  leave  her  jewels  upstairs.  She'll 
wear  them,  my  boy." 

"Not  all  of  them,  Raffles;  she  has  far  too  many 

220 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

for  that.  Besides,  it  isn't  an  ordinary  dinner- 
party; they  say  Mrs.  Guillemard  is  generally  the 
only  lady  there,  and  that  she's  quite  charming  in 
herself.  Now,  no  charming  woman  would  clap 
on  all  sail  in  jewels  for  a  roomful  of  fox-hunters." 

"It  depends  what  jewels  she  has."  I 

"Well,  she  might  wear  her  rope  of  pearls." 

"I  should  have  said  so." 

"And,  of  course,  her  rings." 

"Exactly,  Bunny." 

"But  not  necessarily  her  diamond  tiara " 

"Has  she  got  one?" 

" and  certainly  not  her  emerald  and  dia- 
mond necklace  on  top  of  all!" 

Raffles  snatched  the  Sullivan  from  his  lips,  and 
his  eyes  burned  like  its  end. 

"Bunny,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  there  are  all 
these  things?" 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  I.  "They  are  rich  peo- 
ple, and  he's  not  such  a  brute  as  to  spend  every- 
thing on  his  stable.  Her  jewels  are  as  much  the 
talk  as  his  hunters.  My  friends  told  me  all  about 
both  the  other  day  when  I  was  down  making 
inquiries.  They  thought  my  curiosity  as  natural 
as  my  wish  for  a  few  snapshots  of  the  old  place. 
In  their  opinion  the  emerald  necklace  alone  must  he 
worth  thousands  of  pounds." 

221 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

Raffles  rubbed  his  hands  in  playful  pantomime. 

"I  only  hope  you  didn't  ask  too  many  questions, 
Bunny!  But  if  your  friends  are  such  old  friends, 
you  will  never  enter  their  heads  when  they  hear 
what  has  happened,  unless  you  are  seen  down  there 
on  the  night,  which  might  be  fatal.  Your  ap- 
proach will  require  some  thought:  if  you  like  I 
can  work  out  the  shot  for  you.  I  shall  go  down 
independently,  and  the  best  thing  may  be  to  meet 
outside  the  house  itself  on  the  night  of  nights.  But 
from  that  moment  I  am  in  your  hands." 

And  on  these  refreshing  lines  our  plan  of  cam- 
paign was  gradually  developed  and  elaborated 
into  that  finished  study  on  which  Raffles  would  rely 
like  any  artist  of  the  footlights.  None  were  more 
capable  than  he  of  coping  with  the  occasion  as  it 
rose,  of  rising  himself  with  the  emergency  of  the 
moment,  of  snatching  a  victory  from  the  very  dust 
of  defeat.  Yet,  for  choice,  every  detail  was  pre- 
meditated, and  an  alternative  expedient  at  each 
finger's  end  for  as  many  bare  and  awful  possibili- 
ties. In  this  case,  however,  the  finished  study 
stopped  short  at  the  garden  gate  or  wall;  there  I 
was  to  assume  command;  and  though  Raffles  car- 
ried the  actual  tools  of  trade  of  which  he  alone 
was  master,  it  was  on  the  understanding  that  for 
once  I  should  control  and  direct  their  use. 

222 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

I  had  gone  down  in  evening-clothes  by  an  even- 
ing train,  but  had  carefully  overshot  old  land- 
marks, and  alighted  at  a  small  station  some  miles 
south  of  the  one  where  I  was  still  remembered. 
This  committed  me  to  a  solitary  and  somewhat 
lengthy  tramp ;  but  the  night  was  mild  and  starry, 
and  I  marched  into  it  with  a  high  stomach;  for 
this  was  to  be  no  costume  crime,  and  yet  I  should 
have  Raffles  at  my  elbow  all  the  night-  Long  be- 
fore I  reached  my  destination,  indeed,  he  stood  in 
wait  for  me  on  the  white  highway,  and  we  finished 
with  linked  arms. 

"I  came  down  early,"  said  Raffles,  "and  had  a 
look  at  the  races.  I  always  prefer  to  measure  my 
man,  Bunny;  and  you  needn't  sit  in  the  front  row 
of  the  stalls  to  take  stock  of  your  friend  Guille- 
mard.  No  wonder  he  doesn't  ride  his  own  horses ! 
The  steeple-chaser  isn't  foaled  that  would  carry 
him  round  that  course.  But  he's  a  fine  monument 
of  a  man,  and  he  takes  his  troubles  in  a  way  that 
makes  me  blush  to  add  to  them." 

"Did  he  lose  a  horse?"  I  inquired  cheerfully. 

"No,  Bunny,  but  he  didn't  win  a  race !  His 
horses  were  by  chalks  the  best  there,  and  his  pals 
rode  them  like  the  foul  fiend,  but  with  the  worst 
of  luck  every  time.  Not  that  you'd  think  it,  from 
the  row  they're  making.     I've  been  listening  to 

223 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

them  from  the  road — you  always  did  say  the  house 
stood  too  near  it." 

"Then  you  didn't  go  in?" 

"When  it's  your  show?  You  should  know  me 
better.  Not  a  foot  would  I  set  on  the  premises 
behind  your  back.  But  here  they  are,  so  perhaps 
you'll  lead  the  way." 

And  I  led  it  without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
through  the  unpretentious  six-barred  gate  into  the 
long  but  shallow  crescent  of  the  drive.  There 
were  two  such  gates,  one  at  each  end  of  the  drive, 
but  no  lodge  at  either,  and  not  a  light  nearer  than 
those  of  the  house.  The  shape  and  altitude  of  the 
lighted  windows,  the  whisper  of  the  laurels  on 
either  hand,  the  very  feel  of  the  gravel  underfoot, 
were  at  once  familiar  to  my  senses  as  the  sweet, 
relaxing,  immemorial  air  that  one  drank  deeper  at 
every  breath.  Our  stealthy  advance  was  to  me 
like  stealing  back  into  one's  childhood;  and  yet 
I  could  conduct  it  without  compunction.  I  was 
too  excited  to  feel  immediate  remorse,  albeit  not 
too  lost  in  excitement  to  know  that  remorse  for 
every  step  that  I  was  taking  would  be  my  portion 
soon  enough.  I  mean  every  word  that  I  have 
written  of  my  peculiar  shame  for  this  night's  work. 
And  it  was  all  to  come  over  me  before  the  night 
was  out.    But  in  the  garden  I  never  felt  it  once. 

224 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

The  dining-room  windows  blazed  in  the  side  of 
the  house  facing  the  road.  That  was  an  objection 
to  peeping  through  the  Venetian  blinds,  as  we 
nevertheless  did,  at  our  peril  of  observation  from 
the  road.  Raffles  would  never  have  led  me  into 
danger  so  gratuitous  and  unnecessary,  but  he  fol- 
lowed me  into  it  without  a  word.  I  can  only  plead 
that  we  both  had  our  reward.  There  was  a  suffi- 
cient chink  in  the  obsolete  Venetians,  and  through 
it  we  saw  every  inch  of  the  picturesque  board. 
Mrs.  Guillemard  was  still  in  her  place,  but  she 
really  was  the  only  lady,  and  dressed  as  quietly  as 
I  had  prophesied;  round  her  neck  was  her  rope  of 
pearls,  but  not  the  glimmer  of  an  emerald  nor  the 
glint  of  a  diamond,  nor  yet  the  flashing  constella- 
tion of  a  tiara  in  her  hair.  I  gripped  Raffles  in 
token  of  my  triumph,  and  he  nodded  as  he  scanned 
the  overwhelming  majority  of  flushed  fox-hunters. 
With  the  exception  of  one  stripling,  evidently  the 
son  of  the  house,  they  were  in  evening  pink  to  a 
man;  and  as  I  say,  their  faces  matched  their  coats. 
An  enormous  fellow,  with  a  great  red  face  and 
cropped  moustache,  occupied  my  poor  father's 
place;  he  it  was  who  had  replaced  our  fruitful 
vineries  with  his  stinking  stables;  but  I  am  bound 
to  own  he  looked  a  genial  clod,  as  he  sat  in  his  fat 
and  listened  to  the  young  bloods  boasting  of  their 

225 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

prowess,  or  elaborately  explaining  their  mishaps. 
And  for  a  minute  we  listened  also,  before  I  remem- 
bered my  responsibilities,  and  led  Raffles  round  to 
the  back  of  the  house. 

There  never  was  an  easier  house  to  enter.  I 
used  to  feel  that  keenly  as  a  boy,  when,  by  a  pro- 
phetic irony,  burglars  were  my  bugbear,  and  I 
looked  under  my  bed  every  night  in  life.  The 
bow-windows  on  the  ground  floor  finished  in  inane 
balconies  to  the  first-floor  windows.  These  bal- 
conies had  ornamental  iron  railings,  to  which  a 
less  ingenious  rope-ladder  than  ours  could  have 
been  hitched  with  equal  ease.  Raffles  had  brought 
it  with  him,  round  his  waist,  and  he  carried  the 
telescopic  stick  for  fixing  it  in  place.  The  one  was 
unwound,  and  the  other  put  together,  in  a  secluded 
corner  of  the  red-brick  walls,  where  of  old  I  had 
played  my  own  game  of  squash-rackets  in  the  holi- 
days. I  made  further  investigations  in  the  star- 
light, and  even  found  a  trace  of  my  original  white 
line  along  the  red  wall. 

But  it  was  not  until  we  had  effected  our  entry 
through  the  room  which  had  been  my  very  own, 
and  made  our  parlous  way  across  the  lighted 
landing,  to  the  best  bedroom  of  those  days  and 
these,  that  I  really  felt  myself  a  worm.  Twin 
brass  bedsteads  occupied  the  site  of  the  old  four- 

226 


The  Sp  ils  of  Sacrilege 

poster  from  which  I  had  first  baheld  the  light. 
The  doors  were  the  same;  my  childish  hands  had 
grasped  these  very  handles.  And  there  was  Raf- 
fles securing  the  landing  door  with  wedge  and  gim- 
let, the  very  second  after  softly  closing  it  be- 
hind us. 

"The  other  leads  into  the  dressing-room,  of 
course  ?  Then  you  might  be  fixing  the  outer  dress- 
ing-room door,"  he  whispered  at  his  work,  "but 
not  the  middle  one  Bunny,  unless  you  want  to. 
The  stuff  will  be  in  there,  you  see,  if  it  isn't  in 
here." 

My  door  was  done  in  a  moment,  being  fitted 
with  a  powerful  bolt;  but  now  an  aching  con- 
science made  me  busier  than  I  need  have  been. 
I  had  raised  the  rope-ladder  after  us  into  my  own 
old  room,  and  while  Raffles  wedged  his  door  I 
lowered  the  ladder  from  one  of  the  best  bedroom 
windows,  in  order  to  prepare  that  way  of  escape 
which  was  a  fundamental  feature  of  his  own 
strategy.  I  meant  to  show  Raffles  that  I  had  not 
followed  in  his  train  for  nothing.  But  I  left  it  to 
him  to  unearth  the  jewels.  I  had  begun  by  turn- 
ing up  the  gas;  there  appeared  to  be  no  possible 
risk  in  that;  and  Raffles  went  to  work  with  a  will 
in  the  excellent  light.  There  were  some  good 
pieces  in  the  room,  including  an  ancient  tallboy  in 

227 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

fruity  mahogany,  every  drawer  of  which  was 
turned  out  on  the  bed  without  avail.  A  few  of 
the  drawers  had  locks  to  pick,  yet  not  one  trifle  to 
our  taste  within.  The  situation  became  serious 
as  the  minutes  flew.  We  had  left  the  party  at  its 
sweets;  the  solitary  lady  might  be  free  to  roam 
her  house  at  any  minute.  In  the  end  we  turned 
our  attention  to  the  dressing-room.  And  no  sooner 
did  Raffles  behold  the  bolted  door  than  up  went 
his  hanis. 

"A  bathroom  bolt,"  he  cried  below  his  breath, 
"and  no  bath  in  the  room !  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me,  Bunny?  A  bolt  like  that  speaks  volumes; 
there's  none  on  the  bedroom  door,  remember,  and 
this  one's  worthy  of  a  strong  room!  What  if  it 
is  their  strong  room,  Bunny!  Oh,  Bunny,  what 
if  this  is  their  safe!" 

Raffles  had  dropped  upon  his  knees  before  a 
carved  oak  chest  of  indisputable  antiquity.  Its 
panels  were  delightfully  irregular,  its  angles  fault- 
lessly faulty,  its  one  modern  defilement  a  strong 
lock  to  the  lid.  Raffles  was  smiling  as  he  produced 
his  jimmy.  R — r — r — rip  went  lock  or  lid  in 
another  ten  seconds — I  was  not  there  to  see  which. 
I  had  wandered  back  into  the  bedroom  in  a 
paroxysm  of  excitement  and  suspense.  I  must 
keep  busy  as  well  as  Raffles,  and  it  was  not  too  soon 

228 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

to  see  whether  the  rope-ladder  was  all  right.     In 
another  minute 

I  stood  frozen  to  the  floor.  I  had  hooked  the 
ladder  beautifully  to  the  inner  sill  of  wood,  and 
had  also  let  down  the  extended  rod  for  the  more 
expeditious  removal  of  both  on  our  return  to  terra 
firma.  Conceive  my  cold  horror  on  arriving  at  the 
open  window  just  in  time  to  see  the  last  of  hooks 
and  bending  rod,  as  they  floated  out  of  sight 
and  reach  into  the  outer  darkness  of  the  night, 
removed  by  some  silent  and  invisible  hand 
below ! 

"Raffles — Raffles — they've  spotted  us  and 
moved  the  ladder  this  very  instant!" 

So  I  panted  as  I  rushed  on  tiptoe  to  the  dress- 
ing-room. Raffles  had  the  working  end  of  his 
jimmy  under  the  lid  of  a  leathern  jewel  case.  It 
flew  open  at  the  vicious  twist  of  his  wrist  that  pre- 
ceded his  reply. 

"Did  you  let  them  see  that  you'd  spotted 
that?" 

"No." 

"Good!  Pocket  some  of  these  cases — no  time 
to  open  them.  Which  door's  nearest  the  back- 
stairs?" 

"The  other." 

"Come  on  then!" 

229 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"No,  no,  I'll  lead  the  way.  I  know  every  inch 
of  it." 

And,  as  I  leaned  against  the  bedroom  door, 
handle  in  hand,  while  Raffles  stooped  to  unscrew 
the  gimlet  and  withdraw  the  wedge,  I  hit  upon 
the  ideal  port  in  the  storm  that  was  evidently 
about  to  burst  on  our  devoted  heads.  It  was  the 
last  place  in  which  they  would  look  for  a  couple 
of  expert  cracksmen  with  no  previous  knowledge 
of  the  house.  If  only  we  could  gain  my  haven 
unobserved,  there  we  might  lie  in  unsuspected 
hiding,  and  by  the  hour,  if  not  for  days  and  nights. 

Alas  for  that  sanguine  dream!  The  wedge 
was  out,  and  Raffles  on  his  feet  behind  me.  I 
opened  the  door,  and  for  a  second  the  pair  of  us 
stood  upon  the  threshold. 

Creeping  up  the  stairs  before  us,  each  on  the 
tip  of  his  silken  toes,  was  a  serried  file  of  pink  bar- 
barians, redder  in  the  face  than  anywhere  else,  and 
armed  with  crops  carried  by  the  wrong  end.  The 
monumental  person  with  the  short  moustache  led 
the  advance.  The  fool  stood  still  upon  the  top 
step  to  let  out  the  loudest  and  cheeriest  view-holloa 
that  ever  smote  my  ears. 

It  cost  him  more  than  he  may  know  until  I 
tell  him.  There  was  the  wide  part  of  the  landing 
between  us;  we  had  just  that  much  start  along  the 

230 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

narrow  part,  with  the  walls  and  doors  upon  our 
left,  the  banisters  on  our  right,  and  the  baize  door 
at  the  end.  But  if  the  great  Guillemard  had  not 
stopped  to  live  up  to  his  sporting  reputation,  he 
would  assuredly  have  laid  one  or  other  of  us  by 
the  heels,  and  either  would  have  been  tantamount 
to  both.  As  I  gave  Raffles  a  headlong  lead  to  the 
baize  door,  I  glanced  down  the  great  well  of  stairs, 
and  up  came  the  daft  yells  of  these  sporting  oafs: 

"Gone  away — gone  away!" 

"Yoick — yoick — yoick !" 

"7o;/-der  they  go!" 

And  gone  I  had,  through  the  baize  door  to 
the  back  landing,  with  Raffles  at  my  heels.  I  held 
the  swing  door  for  him,  and  heard  him  bang  it  in 
the  face  of  the  spluttering  and  blustering  master 
of  the  house.  Other  feet  were  already  in  the 
lower  flight  of  the  backstairs;  but  the  upper  flight 
was  the  one  for  me,  and  in  an  instant  we  were 
racing  along  the  upper  corridor  with  the  chuckle- 
headed  pack  at  our  heels.  Here  it  was  all  but 
dark — they  were  the  servants'  bedrooms  that  we 
were  passing  now — but  I  knew  what  I  was  doing. 
Round  the  last  corner  to  the  right,  through  the 
first  door  to  the  left  and  we  were  in  the  room 
underneath  the  tower.  In  our  time  a  long  step- 
ladder  had  led  to  the  tower  itself.     I  rushed  in 

231 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

the  dark  to  the  old  corner.  Thank  God,  the  lad- 
der was  there  still !  It  leaped  under  us  as  we 
rushed  aloft  like  one  quadruped.  The  breakneck 
trap-door  was  still  protected  by  a  curved  brass 
stanchion ;  this  I  grasped  with  one  hand,  and  then 
Raffles  with  the  other  as  I  felt  my  feet  firm  upon 
the  tower  floor.  In  he  sprawled  after  me,  and 
down  went  the  trap-door  with  a  bang  upon  the 
leading  hound. 

I  hoped  to  feel  his  dead-weight  shake  the  house, 
as  he  crashed  upon  the  floor  below;  but  the  fellow 
must  have  ducked,  and  no  crash  came.  Mean- 
while not  a  word  passed  between  Raffles  and  me; 
he  had  followed  me,  as  I  had  led  him,  without 
waste  of  breath  upon  a  single  syllable.  But  the 
merry  lot  below  were  still  yelling  and  bellowing 
in  full  cry. 

"Gone  to  ground!"  screamed  one. 

"Where's  the  terrier?"  screeched  another. 

But  their  host  of  the  mighty  girth — a  man  like 
a  soda-water  bottle,  from  my  one  glimpse  of  him 
on  his  feet — seemed  sobered  rather  than  stunned 
by  the  crack  on  that  head  of  his.  We  heard  his 
fine  voice  no  more,  but  we  could  feel  him  straining 
every  thew  against  the  trap-door  upon  which  Raf- 
fles and  I  stood  side  by  side.  At  least  I  thought 
Raffles  was  standing,  until  he  asked  me  to  strike 

232 


r 


Down  went  the  trap-duur  with  a  lian 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

a  light,  when  I  found  him  on  his  knees  instead  of 
on  his  feet,  busy  screwing  down  the  trap-door  with 
his  gimlet.  He  carried  three  or  four  gimlets  for 
wedging  doors,  and  he  drove  them  all  in  to  the 
handle,  while  I  pulled  at  the  stanchion  and  pushed 
with  my  feet. 

But  the  upward  pressure  ceased  before  our 
efforts.  We  heard  the  ladder  creak  again  under 
a  ponderous  and  slow  descent;  and  we  stood  up- 
right in  the  dim  flicker  of  a  candle-end  that  I  had 
lit  and  left  burning  on  the  floor.  Raffles  glanced 
at  the  four  small  windows  in  turn  and  then  at  me. 

"Is  there  any  way  out  at  all?"  he  whispered, 
as  no  other  being  would  or  could  have  whispered 
to  the  man  who  had  led  him  into  such  a  trap. 
"We've  no  rope-ladder,  you  know." 

"Thanks  to  me,"  I  groaned.  "The  whole 
thing's  my  fault!" 

"Nonsense,  Bunny;  there  was  no  other  way  to 
run.     But  what  about  these  windows?" 

His  magnanimity  took  me  by  the  throat;  with- 
out a  word  I  led  him  to  the  one  window  looking 
inward  upon  sloping  slates  and  level  leads.  Often 
as  a  boy  I  had  clambered  over  them,  for  the  fearful 
fun  of  risking  life  and  limb,  or  the  fascination  of 
peering  through  the  great  square  skylight,  down 
the  well  of  the  house  into  the  hall  below.    There 

233 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

were,  however,  several  smaller  skylights,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  top  floor,  through  any  one  of  which 
I  thought  we  might  have  made  a  dash.  But  at  a 
glance  I  saw  we  were  too  late:  one  of  these  sky- 
lights became  a  brilliant  square  before  our  eyes; 
opened,  and  admitted  a  flushed  face  on  flaming 
shoulders. 

"I'll  give  them  a  fright!"  said  Raffles  through 
his  teeth.  In  an  instant  he  had  plucked  out  his 
revolver,  smashed  the  window  with  its  butt,  and 
the  slates  with  a  bullet  not  a  yard  from  the  pro- 
truding head.  And  that,  I  believe,  was  the  only 
shot  that  Raffles  ever  fired  in  his  whole  career  as 
a  midnight  marauder. 

"You  didn't  hit  him?"  I  gasped,  as  the  head 
disappeared,  and  we  heard  a  crash  in  the  corridor. 

"Of  course  I  didn't,  Bunny,"  he  replied,  back- 
ing into  the  tower;  "but  no  one  will  believe  I 
didn't  mean  to,  and  it'll  stick  on  ten  years  if  we're 
caught.  That's  nothing,  if  it  gives  us  an  extra 
five  minutes  now,  while  they  hold  a  council  of  war. 
Is  that  a  working  flag-staff  overhead?" 

"It  used  to  be." 

"Then  there'll  be  halliards." 

"They  were  as  thin  as  clothes-lines." 

"And  they're  sure  to  be  rotten,  and  we  should 
be   seen   cutting  them   down.      No,    Bunny,   that 

234 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

won't  do.  Wait  a  bit.  Is  there  a  lightning  con-, 
ductor?" 

"There  was." 

I  opened  one  of  the  side  windows  and  reached 
out  as  far  as  I  could. 

"You'll  be  seen  from  that  skylight !"  cried  Raf- 
fles in  a  warning  undertone. 

"No,  I  won't.  I  can't  see  it  myself.  But  here's 
the  lightning-conductor,  where  it  always  was." 

"How  thick,"  asked  Raffles,  as  I  drew  in  and 
rejoined  him. 

"Rather  thicker  than  a  lead-pencil." 

"They  sometimes  bear  you,"  said  Raffles,  slip- 
ping on  a  pair  of  white  kid  gloves,  and  stuffing 
his  handkerchief  into  the  palm  of  one.  "The  diffi- 
culty is  to  keep  a  grip;  but  I've  been  up  and  down 
them  before  to-night.  And  it's  our  only  chance. 
I'll  go  first,  Bunny :  you  watch  me,  and  do  exactly 
as  I  do  if  I  get  down  all  right." 

"But  if  you  don't!" 

"If  I  don't,"  whispered  Raffles,  as  he  wormed 
through  the  window  feet  foremost,  "I'm  afraid 
you'll  have  to  face  the  music  where  you  are,  and 
I  shall  have  the  best  of  it  down  in  Acheron !" 

And  he  slid  out  of  reach  without  another  word, 
leaving  me  to  shudder  alike  at  his  levity  and  his 
peril;  nor  could  I  follow  him  very  far  by  the  wan 

?35 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

light  of  the  April  stars;  but  I  saw  his  forearms 
resting  a  moment  in  the  spout  that  ran  around  the 
tower,  between  bricks  and  slates,  on  the  level  of 
the  floor;  and  I  had  another  dim  glimpse  of  him 
lower  still,  on  the  eaves  over  the  very  room  that 
we  had  ransacked.  Thence  the  conductor  ran 
straight  to  earth  in  an  angle  of  the  facade.  And 
since  it  had  borne  him  thus  far  without  mishap, 
I  felt  that  Raffles  was  as  good  as  down.  But  I  had 
neither  his  muscles  nor  his  nerves,  and  my  head 
swam  as  I  mounted  to  the  window  and  prepared 
to  creep  out  backward  in  my  turn. 

So  it  was  that  at  the  last  moment  I  had  my  first 
unobstructed  view  of  the  little  old  tower  of  other 
days.  Raffles  was  out  of  the  way;  the  bit  of  candle 
was  still  burning  on  the  floor,  and  in  its  dim  light 
the  familiar  haunt  was  cruelly  like  itself  of  inno- 
cent memory.  A  lesser  ladder  still  ascended  to  a 
tinier  trap-door  in  the  apex  of  the  tower;  the  fixed 
seats  looked  to  me  to  be  wearing  their  old,  old 
coat  of  grained  varnish;  nay  the  varnish  had  its 
ancient  smell,  and  the  very  vanes  outside  creaked 
their  message  to  my  ears.  I  remembered  whole 
days  that  I  had  spent,  whole  books  that  I  had  read, 
here  in  this  favorite  fastness  of  my  boyhood.  The 
dirty  little  place,  with  the  dormer  window  in  each 
of  its  four  sloping  sides,  became  a  gallery  hung 

236 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

with  poignant  pictures  of  the  past.  And  here  was 
I  leaving  it  with  my  life  in  my  hands  and  my 
pockets  full  of  stolen  jewels!  A  superstition 
seized  me.  Suppose  the  conductor  came  down 
with  me  .  .  .  suppose  I  slipped  .  .  . 
and  was  picked  up  dead,  with  the  proceeds  of  my 
shameful  crime  upon  me,  under  the  very  windows 

.     .     .     where  the  sun 
Came  peeping  in  at  dawn     .     .     . 

I  hardly  remember  what  I  did  or  left  undone. 
I  only  know  that  nothing  broke,  that  somehow  I 
kept  my  hold,  and  that  in  the  end  the  wire  ran 
red-hot  through  my  palms  so  that  both  were  torn 
and  bleeding  when  I  stood  panting  beside  Raffles 
in  the  flower-beds.  There  was  no  time  for  think- 
ing then.  Already  there  was  a  fresh  commotion 
in-doors;  the  tidal  wave  of  excitement  which  had 
swept  all  before  it  to  the  upper  regions  was  sub- 
siding in  as  swift  a  rush  downstairs;  and  I  raced 
after  Raffles  along  the  edge  of  the  drive  without 
daring  to  look  behind. 

We  came  out  by  the  opposite  gate  to  that  by 
which  we  had  stolen  in.  Sharp  to  the  right  ran 
the  private  lane  behind  the  stables  and  sharp  to 
the  right  dashed  Raffles,  instead  of  straight  along 

237 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

the  open  road.  It  was  not  the  course  I  should 
have  chosen,  but  I  followed  Raffles  without  a  mur- 
mur, only  too  thankful  that  he  had  assumed  the 
lead  at  last.  Already  the  stables  were  lit  up  like 
a  chandelier;  there  was  a  staccato  rattle  of  horse- 
shoes in  the  stable  yard,  and  the  great  gates  were 
opening  as  we  skimmed  past  in  the  nick  of  time. 
In  another  minute  we  were  skulking  in  the  shadow 
of  the  kitchen-garden  wall  while  the  high-road 
rang  with  the  dying  tattoo  of  galloping  hoofs. 

"That's  for  the  police,"  said  Raffles,  waiting 
for  me.  "But  the  fun's  only  beginning  in  the 
stables.  Hear  the  uproar,  and  see  the  lights !  In 
another  minute  they'll  be  turning  out  the  hunters 
for  the  last  run  of  the  season!" 

"We  mustn't  give  them  one,  Raffles!" 

"Of  course  we  mustn't;  but  that  means  stop- 
ping where  we  are." 

"We  can't  do  that!" 

"If  they're  wise  they'll  send  a  man  to  every 
railway  station  within  ten  miles  and  draw  every 
cover  inside  the  radius.  I  can  only  think  of  one 
that's  not  likely  to  occur  to  them." 

"What's  that?" 

"The  other  side  of  this  wall.  How  big  is  the 
garden,  Bunny?" 

"Six  or  seven  acres." 

238 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

"Well,  you  must  take  me  to  another  of  your 
old  haunts,  where  we  can  lie  low  till  morning." 

"And  then?" 

"Sufficient  for  the  night,  Bunny!  The  first 
thing  is  to  find  a  burrow.  What  are  those  trees 
at  the  end  of  this  lane?" 

"St.  Leonard's  Forest." 

"Magnificent !  They'll  scour  every  inch  of  that 
before  they  come  back  to  their  own  garden. 
Come,  Bunny,  give  me  a  leg  up,  and  I'll  pull  you 
after  me  in  two  ticks !" 

There  was  indeed  nothing  better  to  be  done; 
and,  much  as  I  loathed  and  dreaded  entering  the 
place  again,  I  had  already  thought  of  a  second 
sanctuary  of  old  days,  which  might  as  well  be  put 
to  the  base  uses  of  this  disgraceful  night.  In  a  far 
corner  of  the  garden,  over  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  house,  a  little  ornamental  lake  had  been  dug 
within  my  own  memory;  its  shores  were  shelving 
lawn  and  steep  banks  of  rhododendrons;  and 
among  the  rhododendrons  nestled  a  tiny  boat- 
house  which  had  been  my  childish  joy.  It  was 
half  a  dock  for  the  dingy  in  which  one  plowed 
these  miniature  waters  and  half  a  bathing-box  for 
those  who  preferred  their  morning  tub  among  the 
goldfish.  I  could  not  think  of  a  safer  asylum  than 
this,  if  we  must  spend  the  night  upon  the  premises; 

239 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

and  Raffles  agreed  with  me  when  I  had  led  him  by 
sheltering  shrubbery  and  perilous  lawn  to  the 
diminutive  chalet  between  the  rhododendrons  and 
the  water. 

But  what  a  night  it  was!  The  little  bathing- 
box  had  two  doors,  one  to  the  water,  the  other  to 
the  path.  To  hear  all  that  could  be  heard,  it  was 
necessary  to  keep  both  doors  open,  and  quite  im- 
perative not  to  talk.  The  damp  night  air  of  April 
filled  the  place,  and  crept  through  our  evening- 
clothes  and  light  overcoats  into  the  very  marrow; 
the  mental  torture  of  the  situation  was  renewed 
and  multiplied  in  my  brain;  and  all  the  time  one's 
ears  were  pricked  for  footsteps  on  the  path  be- 
tween the  rhododendrons.  The  only  sounds  we 
could  at  first  identify  came  one  and  all  from  the 
stables.  Yet  there  the  excitement  subsided  sooner 
than  we  had  expected,  and  it  was  Raffles  himself 
who  breathed  a  doubt  as  to  whether  they  were 
turning  out  the  hunters  after  all.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  heard  wheels  in  the  drive  not  long  after 
midnight;  and  Raffles,  who  was  beginning  to  scout 
among  the  shrubberies,  stole  back  to  tell  me  that 
the  guests  were  departing,  and  being  sped,  with 
an  unimpaired  conviviality  which  he  failed  to 
understand.  I  said  I  could  not  understand  it 
either,    but   suggested    the    general    influence    of 

240 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

liquor,  and  expressed  my  envy  of  their  state.  I 
had  drawn  my  knees  up  to  my  chin,  on  the  bench 
where  one  used  to  dry  one's  self  after  bathing,  and 
there  I  sat  in  a  seeming  stolidity  at  utter  variance 
with  my  inward  temper.  I  heard  Raffles  creep 
forth  again  and  I  let  him  go  without  a  word.  I 
never  doubted  that  he  would  be  back  again  in  a 
minute,  and  so  let  many  minutes  elapse  before  I 
realized  his  continued  absence,  and  finally  crept 
out  myself  to  look  for  him. 

Even  then  I  only  supposed  that  he  had  posted 
himself  outside  in  some  more  commanding  posi- 
tion. I  took  a  catlike  stride  and  breathed  his 
name.  There  was  no  answer.  I  ventured  further, 
till  I  could  overlook  the  lawns :  they  lay  like  clean 
slates  in  the  starlight:  there  was  no  sign  of  living 
thing  nearer  than  the  house,  which  was  still  lit  up, 
but  quiet  enough  now.  Was  it  a  cunning  and  de- 
liberate quiet  assumed  as  a  snare?  Had  they 
caught  Raffles,  and  were  they  waiting  for  me?  I 
returned  to  the  boat-house  in  an  agony  of  fear 
and  indignation.  It  was  fear  for  the  long  hours 
that  I  sat  there  waiting  for  him;  it  was  indigna- 
tion when  at  last  I  heard  his  stealthy  step  upon 
the  gravel.  I  would  not  go  out  to  meet  him.  I 
sat  where  I  was  while  the  stealthy  step  came 
nearer,  nearer;  and  there  I  was  sitting  when  the 

241 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

door  opened,  and  a  huge  man  in  riding-clothes 
stood  before  me  in  the  steely  dawn. 

I  leaped  to  my  feet,  and  the  huge  man 
clapped  me  playfully  on  the  shoulder. 

"Sorry  I've  been  so  long,  Bunny,  but  we  should 
never  have  got  away  as  we  were;  this  riding-suit 
makes  a  new  man  of  me,  on  top  of  my  own,  and 
here's  a  youth's  kit  that  should  do  you  down  to 
the  ground." 

"So  you  broke  into  the  house  again!" 

"I  was  obliged  to,  Bunny;  but  I  had  to  watch 
the  lights  out  one  by  one,  and  give  them  a  good 
hour  after  that.  I  went  through  that  dressing- 
room  at  my  leisure  this  time;  the  only  difficulty 
was  to  spot  the  son's  quarters  at  the  back  of  the 
house;  but  I  overcame  it,  as  you  see,  in  the  end. 
I  only  hope  they'll  fit,  Bunny.  Give  me  your 
patent  leathers,  and  I'll  fill  them  with  stones  and 
sink  them  in  the  pond.  I'm  doing  the  same  with 
mine.  Here's  a  brown  pair  apiece,  and  we  mustn't 
let  the  grass  grow  under  them  if  we're  to  get  to 
the  station  in  time  for  the  early  train  while  the 
coast's  still  clear." 

The  early  train  leaves  the  station  in  question 
at  6.20  A.M.;  and  that  fine  spring  morning  there 
was  a  police  officer  in  a  peaked  cap  to  see  it  off; 
but  he  was  too  busy  peering  into  the  compartments 

242 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

for  a  pair  of  very  swell  mobsmen  that  he  took  no 
notice  of  the  huge  man  in  riding-clothes,  who  was 
obviously  intoxicated,  or  the  more  insignificant  but 
not  less  horsy  character  who  had  him  in  hand. 
The  early  train  is  due  at  Victoria  at  8.28,  but  these 
worthies  left  it  at  Clapham  Junction,  and  changed 
cabs  more  than  once  between  Battersea  and  Picca- 
dilly, and  a  few  of  their  garments  in  each  four- 
wheeler.  It  was  barely  nine  o'clock  when  they  sat 
together  in  the  Albany,  and  might  have  been  recog- 
nized once  more  as  Raffles  and  myself. 

"And  now,"  said  Raffles,  "before  we  do  any- 
thing else,  let  us  turn  out  those  little  cases  that 
we  hadn't  time  to  open  when  we  took  them.  I 
mean  the  ones  I  handed  to  you,  Bunny.  I  had 
a  look  into  mine  in  the  garden,  and  I'm  sorry  to 
say  there  was  nothing  in  them.  The  lady  must 
have  been  wearing  their  proper  contents." 

Raffles  held  out  his  hand  for  the  substantial 
leather  cases  which  I  had  produced  at  his  request. 
But  that  was  the  extent  of  my  compliance;  instead 
'  of  handing  them  over,  I  looked  boldly  into  the 
eyes  that  seemed  to  have  discerned  my  wretched 
secret  at  one  glance. 

"It  is  no  use  my  giving  them  to  you,"  I  said. 
"They  are  empty  also." 

"When  did  you  look  into  them?" 

243 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"In  the  tower." 

"Well,  let  me  see  for  myself." 

"As  you  like." 

"My  dear  Bunny,  this  one  must  have  contained 
the  necklace  you  boasted  about." 

"Very  likely." 

"And  this  one  the  tiara." 

"I  dare  say." 

"Yet  she  was  wearing  neither,  as  you  proph- 
esied, and  as  we  both  saw  for  ourselves!" 

I  had  not  taken  my  eyes  from  his. 

"Raffles,"  I  said,  "I'll  be  frank  with  you  after 
all.  I  meant  you  never  to  know,  but  it's  easier 
than  telling  you  a  lie.  I  left  both  things  behind 
me  in  the  tower.  I  won't  attempt  to  explain  or 
defend  myself;  it  was  probably  the  influence  of 
the  tower,  and  nothing  else;  but  the  whole  thing 
came  over  me  at  the  last  moment,  when  you  had 
gone  and  I  was  going.  I  felt  that  I  should  very 
probably  break  my  neck,  that  I  cared  very  little 
whether  I  did  or  not,  but  that  it  would  be  frightful 
to  break  it  at  that  house  with  those  things  in  my 
pocket.  You  may  say  I  ought  to  have  thought  of 
all  that  before!  you  may  say  what  you  like,  and 
you  won't  say  more  than  I  deserve.  It  was  hys- 
terical, and  it  was  mean,  for  I  kept  the  cases  to 
impose  on  you." 

244 


The  Spoils  of  Sacrilege 

"You  were  always  a  bad  liar,  Bunny,"  said  Raf- 
fles, smiling.  "Will  you  think  me  one  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  can  understand  what  you  felt,  and  even 
what  you  did?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  under- 
stood for  several  hours  now." 

"You  mean  what  I  felt,  Raffles?" 

"And  what  you  did.  I  guessed  it  in  the  boat- 
house.  I  knew  that  something  must  have  hap- 
pened or  been  discovered  to  disperse  that  truculent 
party  of  sportsmen  so  soon  and  on  such  good  terms 
with  themselves.  They  had  not  got  us;  they  might 
have  got  something  better  worth  having;  and  your 
phlegmatic  attitude  suggested  what.  As  luck 
would  have  it,  the  cases  that  I  personally  had  col- 
lared were  the  empty  ones;  the  two  prizes  had 
fallen  to  you.  Well,  to  allay  my  horrid  sus- 
picion, I  went  and  had  another  peep  through 
the  lighted  Venetians.  And  what  do  you  think 
I  saw?" 

I  shook  my  head.  I  had  no  idea,  nor  was  I 
very  eager  for  enlightenment. 

"The  two  poor  people  whom  it  was  your  own 
idea  to  despoil,"  quoth  Raffles,  "prematurely  gloat- 
ing over  these  two  pretty  things!" 

He  withdrew  a  hand  from  either  pocket  of  his 
crumpled  dinner-jacket,  and  opened  the  pair  under 
my  nose.     In  one  was  a  diamond  tiara,  and  in  the 

245 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

other  a  necklace  of  fine  emeralds  set  in  clusters  of 
brilliants. 

"You  must  try  to  forgive  me,  Bunny,"  con- 
tinued Raffles  before  I  could  speak.  "I  don't  say 
a  word  against  what  you  did,  or  undid;  in  fact, 
now  it's  all  over,  I  am  rather  glad  to  think  that 
you  did  try  to  undo  it.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  we 
had  both  risked  life,  limb,  and  liberty;  and  I  had 
not  your  sentimental  scruples.  Why  should  I  go 
empty  away?  If  you  want  to  know  the  inner  his- 
tory of  my  second  visit  to  that  good  fellow's  dress- 
ing-room, drive  home  for  a  fresh  kit  and  meet  me 
at  the  Turkish  bath  in  twenty  minutes.  I  feel 
more  than  a  little  grubby,  and  we  can  have  our 
breakfast  in  the  cooling  gallery.  Besides,  after  a 
whole  night  in  your  old  haunts,  Bunny,  it's  only 
in  order  to  wind  up  in  Northumberland  Avenue." 


246 


The  Raffles  Relics 

IT  was  in  one  of  the  magazines  for  December, 
1899,  that  an  article  appeared  which  afforded 
our  minds  a  brief  respite  from  the  then  consuming 
excitement  of  the  war  in  South  Africa.  These 
were  the  days  when  Raffles  really  had  white  hair, 
and  when  he  and  I  were  nearing  the  end  of  our 
surreptitious  second  innings,  as  professional 
cracksmen  of  the  deadliest  dye.  Piccadilly  and 
the  Albany  knew  us  no  more.  But  we  still  oper- 
ated, as  the  spirit  tempted  us,  from  our  latest  and 
most  idyllic  base,  on  the  borders  of  Ham  Com- 
mon. Recreation  was  our  greatest  want;  and 
though  we  had  both  descended  to  the  humble 
bicycle,  a  lot  of  reading  was  forced  upon  us  in  the 
winter  evenings.  Thus  the  war  came  as  a  boon 
to  us  both.  It  not  only  provided  us  with  an  honest 
interest  in  life,  but  gave  point  and  zest  to  innumer- 
able spins  across  Richmond  Park,  to  the  nearest 
paper  shop;  and  it  was  from  such  an  expedition 
that  I  returned  with  inflammatory  matter  uncon- 
nected with  the  war.     The  magazine  was  one  of 

247 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

those  that  are  read  (and  sold)  by  the  million; 
the  article  was  rudely  illustrated  on  every  other 
page.  Its  subject  was  the  so-called  Black  Museum 
at  Scotland  Yard;  and  from  the  catchpenny  text 
we  first  learned  that  the  gruesome  show  was  now 
enriched  by  a  special  and  elaborate  exhibit  known 
as  the  Raffles  Relics. 

"Bunny,"  said  Raffles,  "this  is  fame  at  last!  It 
is  no  longer  notoriety;  it  lifts  one  out  of  the  ruck 
of  robbers  into  the  society  of  the  big  brass  gods, 
whose  little  delinquencies  are  written  in  water  by 
the  finger  of  time.  The  Napoleon  Relics  we  know, 
the  Nelson  Relics  we've  heard  about,  and  here  are 
mine! 

"Which  I  wish  to  goodness  we  could  see,"  I 
added,  longingly.  Next  moment  I  was  sorry  I 
had  spoken.  Raffles  was  looking  at  me  across  the 
magazine.  There  was  a  smile  on  his  lips  that  I 
knew  too  well,  a  light  in  his  eyes  that  I  had 
kindled. 

"What  an  excellent  idea !"  he  exclaimed,  quite 
softly,  as  though  working  it  out  already  in  his 
brain. 

"I  didn't  mean  it  for  one,"  I  answered,  "and 
no  more  do  you." 

"Certainly  I  do,"  said  Raffles.  "I  was  never 
more  serious  in  my  life." 

248 


The  Raffles  Relics 

"You  would  march  into  Scotland  Yard  in  broad 
daylight?" 

"In  broad  lime-light,"  he  answered,  studying 
the  magazine  again,  "to  set  eyes  on  my  own  once 
more.  Why  here  they  all  are,  Bunny — you  never 
told  me  there  was  an  illustration.  That's  the  chest 
you  took  to  your  bank  with  me  inside,  and  those 
must  be  my  own  rope-ladder  and  things  on  top. 
They  produce  so  badly  in  the  baser  magazines  that 
it's  impossible  to  swear  to  them;  there's  nothing 
for  it  but  a  visit  of  inspection." 

"Then  you  can  pay  it  alone,"  said  I  grimly. 
'You  may  have  altered,  but  they'd  know  me  at  a 
glance." 

"By  all  means,  Bunny,  if  you'll  get  me  the 
pass." 

"A  pass!"  I  cried  triumphantly.  "Of  course 
we  should  have  to  get  one,  and  of  course  that  puts 
an  end  to  the  whole  idea.  Who  on  earth  would 
give  a  pass  for  this  show,  of  all  others,  to  an  old 
prisoner  like  me?" 

Raffles  addressed  himself  to  the  reading  of  the 
magazine  with  a  shrug  that  showed  some  temper. 

"The  fellow  who  wrote  this  article  got  one," 
said  he  shortly.  "He  got  it  from  his  editor,  and 
you  can  get  one  from  yours  if  you  tried.  But 
pray  don't  try,  Bunny :  it  would  be  too  terrible  for 

249 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

you  to  risk  a  moment's  embarrassment  to  gratify 
a  mere  whim  of  mine.  And  if  I  went  instead  of 
you  and  got  spotted,  which  is  so  likely  with  this 
head  of  hair,  and  the  general  belief  in  my  demise, 
the  consequences  to  you  would  be  too  awful  to 
contemplate !  Don't  contemplate  them,  my  dear 
fellow.     And  do  let  me  read  my  magazine." 

Need  I  add  that  I  set  about  the  rash  endeavor 
without  further  expostulation?  I  was  used  to 
such  ebullitions  from  the  altered  Raffles  of  these 
later  days,  and  I  could  well  understand  them.  All 
the  inconvenience  of  the  new  conditions  fell  on  him. 
I  had  purged  my  known  offences  by  imprisonment, 
whereas  Raffles  was  merely  supposed  to  have 
escaped  punishment  in  death.  The  result  was  that 
I  could  rush  in  where  Raffles  feared  to  tread,  and 
was  his  plenipotentiary  in  all  honest  dealings  with 
the  outer  world.  It  could  not  but  gall  him  to  be  so 
dependent  upon  me,  and  it  was  for  me  to  minimize 
the  humiliation  by  scrupulously  avoiding  the  least 
semblance  of  an  abuse  of  that  power  which  I  now 
had  over  him.  Accordingly,  though  with  much 
misgiving,  I  did  his  ticklish  behest  in  Fleet  Street, 
where,  despite  my  past,  I  was  already  making  a 
certain  lowly  footing  for  myself.  Success  fol- 
lowed as  it  will  when  one  longs  to  fail;  and  one 
fine  evening  I  returned  to  Ham  Common  with  a 

250 


The  Raffles  Relics 

card  from  the  Convict  Supervision  Office,  New 
Scotland  Yard,  which  I  treasure  to  this  day.  I  am 
surprised  to  see  that  it  was  undated,  and  might  still 
almost  "Admit  Bearer  to  see  the  Museum,"  to  say 
nothing  of  the  bearer's  friends,  since  my  editor's 
name  "and  party"  is  scrawled  beneath  the  legend. 

"But  he  doesn't  want  to  come,"  as  I  explained 
to  Raffles.  "And  it  means  that  we  can  both  go, 
if  we  both  like." 

Raffles  looked  at  me  with  a  wry  smile;  he  was 
in  good  enough  humor  now. 

"It  would  be  rather  dangerous,  Bunny.  If  they 
spotted  you,  they  might  think  of  me." 

"But  you  say  they'll  never  know  you  now." 

"I  don't  believe  they  will.  I  don't  believe 
there's  the  slightest  risk;  but  we  shall  soon  see. 
I've  set  my  heart  on  seeing,  Bunny,  but  there's  no 
earthly  reason  why  I  should  drag  you  into  it." 

"You  do  that  when  you  present  this  card,"  I 
pointed  out.  "I  shall  hear  of  it  fast  enough  if 
anything  happens." 

"Then  you  may  as  well  be  there  to  see  the 
fun?" 

"It  will  make  no  difference  if  the  worst  comes 
to  the  worst." 

"And  the  ticket  is  for  a  party,  isn't  it?" 

"It  is." 

251 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"It  might  even  look  peculiar  if  only  one  per- 
son made  use  of  it?" 

"It  might." 

"Then  we're  both  going,  Bunny!  And  I  give 
you  my  word,"  cried  Raffles,  "that  no  real  harm 
shall  come  of  it.  But  you  mustn't  ask  to  see  the 
Relics,  and  you  mustn't  take  too  much  interest  in 
them  when  you  do  see  them.  Leave  the  question- 
ing to  me :  it  really  will  be  a  chance  of  finding  out 
whether  they've  any  suspicion  of  one's  resurrec- 
tion at  Scotland  Yard.  Still  I  think  I  can  promise 
you  a  certain  amount  of  fun,  old  fellow,  as  some 
little  compensation  for  your  pangs  and  fears !" 

The  early  afternoon  was  mild  and  hazy,  and 
unlike  winter  but  for  the  prematurely  low  sun 
struggling  through  the  haze,  as  Raffles  and  I 
emerged  from  the  nether  regions  at  Westminster 
Bridge,  and  stood  for  one  moment  to  admire  the 
infirm  silhouttes  of  Abbey  and  Houses  in  flat  gray 
against  a  golden  mist.  Raffles  murmured  of 
Whistler  and  of  Arthur  Severn,  and  threw  away  a 
good  Sullivan  because  the  smoke  would  curl  be- 
tween him  and  the  picture.  It  is  perhaps  the  pic- 
ture that  I  can  now  see  clearest  of  all  the  set 
scenes  of  our  lawless  life.  But  at  the  time  I  was 
filled  with  gloomy  speculation  as  to  whether  Raf- 
fles would  keep  his  promise  of  providing  an  en- 

252 


The  Raffles  Relics 

tirely  harmless  entertainment  for  my  benefit  at  the 
Black  Museum. 

We  entered  the  forbidding  precincts ;  we  looked 
relentless  officers  in  the  face,  and  they  almost 
yawned  in  ours  as  they  directed  us  through  swing 
doors  and  up  stone  stairs.  There  was  something 
even  sinister  in  the  casual  character  of  our  recep- 
tion. We  had  an  arctic  landing  to  ourselves  for 
several  minutes,  which  Raffles  spent  in  an  instinc- 
tive survey  of  the  premises,  while  I  cooled  my 
heels  before  the  portrait  of  a  late  commissioner. 

"Dear  old  gentleman!"  exclaimed  Raffles,  join- 
ing me.  "I  have  met  him  at  dinner,  and  discussed 
my  own  case  with  him,  in  the  old  days.  But  we 
can't  know  too  little  about  ourselves  in  the  Black 
Museum,  Bunny.  I  remember  going  to  the  old 
place  in  Whitehall,  years  ago,  and  being  shown 
round  by  one  of  the  tip-top  'tecs.  And  this  may 
be  another." 

But  even  I  could  see  at  a  glance  that  there  was 
nothing  of  the  detective  and  everything  of  the 
clerk  about  the  very  young  man  who  had  joined 
us  at  last  upon  the  landing.  His  collar  was  the 
tallest  I  have  ever  seen,  and  his  face  was  as  pallid 
as  his  collar.  He  carried  a  loose  key,  with  which 
he  unlocked  a  door  a  little  way  along  the  passage, 
and  so  ushered  us  into  that  dreadful  repository 

253 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

which  perhaps  has  fewer  visitors  than  any  other 
of  equal  interest  in  the  world.  The  place  was  cold 
as  the  inviolate  vault;  blinds  had  to  be  drawn  up, 
and  glass  cases  uncovered,  before  we  could  see  a 
thing  except  the  row  of  murderers'  death-masks — 
the  placid  faces  with  the  swollen  necks — that  stood 
out  on  their  shelves  to  give  us  ghostly  greeting. 

"This  fellow  isn't  formidable,"  whispered  Raf- 
fles, as  the  blinds  went  up ;  "still,  we  can't  be  too 
careful.  My  little  lot  are  round  the  corner,  in 
the  sort  of  recess;  don't  look  till  we  come  to  them 
in  their  turn." 

So  we  began  at  the  beginning,  with  the  glass 
case  nearest  the  door;  and  in  a  moment  I  dis- 
covered that  I  knew  far  more  about  its  contents 
than  our  pallid  guide.  He  had  some  enthusiasm, 
but  the  most  inaccurate  smattering  of  his  subject. 
He  mixed  up  the  first  murderer  with  quite  the 
wrong  murder,  and  capped  his  mistake  in  the  next 
breath  with  an  intolerable  libel  on  the  very  pearl 
of  our  particular  tribe. 

"This  revawlver,"  he  began,  "belonged  to  the 
celebrited  burgular,  Chawles  Peace.  These  are 
his  spectacles,  that's  his  jimmy,  and  this  here 
knife's  the  one  that  Chawley  killed  the  policeman 
with." 

Now  I  like  accuracy  for  its  own  sake,  strive 

254 


The  Raffles  Relics 

after  it  myself,  and  am  sometimes  guilty  of  forc- 
ing it  upon  others.  So  this  was  more  than  I  could 
pass. 

"That's  not  quite  right,"  I  put  in  mildly.  "He 
never  made  use  of  the  knife." 

The  young  clerk  twisted  his  head  round  in  its 
vase  of  starch. 

"Chawley  Peace  killed  two  policemen,"  said  he. 

"No,  he  didn't;  only  one  of  them  was  a 
policeman;  and  he  never  killed  anybody  with  a 
knife." 

The  clerk  took  the  correction  like  a  lamb.  I 
could  not  have  refrained  from  making  it,  to  save 
my  skin.  But  Raffles  rewarded  me  with  as  vicious 
a  little  kick  as  he  could  administer  unobserved. 
"Who  was  Charles  Peace?"  he  inquired,  with  the 
bland  effrontery  of  any  judge  upon  the  bench. 

The  clerk's  reply  came  pat  and  unexpected. 

"The  greatest  burgular  we  ever  had,"  said  he, 
"till  good  old  Raffles  knocked  him  out!" 

"The  greatest  of  the  pre-Raffleites,"  the  master 
murmured,  as  we  passed  on  to  the  safer  memo- 
rials of  mere  murder.  There  were  misshapen  bul- 
lets and  stained  knives  that  had  taken  human  life; 
there  were  lithe,  lean  ropes  which  had  retaliated 
after  the  live  letter  of  the  Mosaic  law.  There  was 
one   bristling  broadside   of   revolvers   under   the 

255 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

longest  shelf  of  closed  eyes  and  swollen  throats. 
There  were  festoons  of  rope-ladders — none  so  in- 
genious as  ours — and  then  at  last  there  was  seme- 
thing  that  the  clerk  knew  all  about.  It  was  a  small 
tin  cigarette-box,  and  the  name  upon  the  gaudy 
wrapper  was  not  the  name  of  Sullivan.  Yet  Raf- 
fles and  I  knew  even  more  about  this  exhibit  than 
the  clerk. 

"There,  now,"  said  our  guide,  "you'll  never 
guess  the  history  of  that !  I'll  give  you  twenty 
guesses,  and  the  twentieth  will  be  no  nearer  than 
the  first." 

"I'm  sure  of  it,  my  good  fellow,"  rejoined 
Raffles,  a  discreet  twinkle  in  his  eye.  'Tell  us 
about  it,  to  save  time." 

And  he  opened,  as  he  spoke,  his  own  old  twenty- 
five  tin  of  purely  popular  cigarettes;  there  were  a 
few  in  it  still,  but  between  the  cigarettes  were 
jammed  lumps  of  sugar  wadded  with  cotton-wool. 
I  saw  Raffles  weighing  the  lot  in  his  hand  with 
subtle  satisfaction.  But  the  clerk  saw  merely  the 
mystification  which  he  desired  to  create. 

"I  thought  that'd  beat  you,  sir,"  said  he.  "It 
was  an  American  dodge.  Two  smart  Yankees  got 
a  jeweller  to  take  a  lot  of  stuff  to  a  private  room 
at  Kellner's,  where  they  were  dining,  for  them  to 
choose  from.    When  it  came  to  paying,  there  was 

256 


The  Raffles  Relics 

some  bother  about  a  remittance;  but  they  soon 
made  that  all  right,  for  they  were  far  too  clever 
to  suggest  taking  away  what  they'd  chosen  but 
couldn't  pay  for.  No,  all  they  wanted  was  that 
what  they'd  chosen  might  be  locked  up  in  the  safe 
and  considered  theirs  until  their  money  came  for 
them  to  pay  for  it.  All  they  asked  was  to  seal  the 
stuff  up  in  something;  the  jeweller  was  to  take  it 
away  and  not  meddle  with  it,  nor  yet  break  the 
seals,  for  a  week  or  two.  It  seemed  a  fair  enough 
thing,  now,  didn't  it,  sir?" 

"Eminently  fair,"  said  Raffles  sententiously. 

uSo  the  jeweller  thought,"  crowed  the  clerk. 
"You  see,  it  wasn't  as  if  the  Yanks  had  chosen 
out  the  half  of  what  he'd  brought  on  appro.; 
they'd  gone  slow  on  purpose,  and  they'd  paid  for 
all  they  could  on  the  nail,  just  for  a  blind.  Well, 
I  suppose  you  can  guess  what  happened  in  the 
end?  The  jeweller  never  heard  of  those  Ameri- 
cans again;  and  these  few  cigarettes  and  lumps  of 
sugar  were  all  he  found." 

"Duplicate  boxes!"  I  cried,  perhaps  a  thought 
too  promptly. 

"Duplicate  boxes!"  murmured  Raffles,  as  pro- 
foundly impressed  as  a  second  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Duplicate  boxes  1"  echoed  the  triumphant  clerk. 
"Artful  beggars,  these  Americans,  sir!     You've 

257 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

got  to  crawss  the  'Erring  Pond  to  learn  a  trick 
worth  one  o'  that!" 

"I  suppose  so,"  assented  the  grave  gentleman 
with  the  silver  hair.  "Unless,"  he  added,  as  if 
suddenly  inspired,  "unless  it  was  that  man  Raf- 
fles." 

"It  couldn't  've  bin,"  jerked  the  clerk  from 
his  conning-tower  of  a  collar.  "He'd  gone  to 
Davy  Jones  long  before." 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  Raffles.  "Was  his  body 
ever  found?" 

"Found  and  buried,"  replied  our  imaginative 
friend.  "Maker,  I  think  it  was;  or  it  may  have 
been  Giberaltar.     I  forget  which." 

"Besides,"  I  put  in,  rather  annoyed  at  all  this 
wilful  work,  yet  not  indisposed  to  make  a  late  con- 
tribution— "besides,  Raffles  would  never  have 
smoked  those  cigarettes.  There  was  only  one 
brand  for  him.     It  was — let  me  see " 

"Sullivans!"  cried  the  clerk,  right  for  once. 
"It's  all  a  matter  of  'abit,"  he  went  on,  as  he  re- 
placed the  twenty-five  tin  box  with  the  vulgar 
wrapper.  "I  tried  them  once,  and  I  didn't  like 
'em  myself.  It's  all  a  question  of  tiste.  Now,  if 
you  want  a  good  smoke,  and  cheaper,  give  me  a 
Golden  Gem  at  quarter  of  the  price." 

"What  we  really  do  want,"  remarked  Raffles 

258 


The  Raffles  Relics 

mildly,  "is  to  see  something  else  as  clever  as  that 
last." 

"Then  come  this  way,"  said  the  clerk,  and  led 
us  into  a  recess  almost  monopolized  by  the  iron- 
clamped  chest  of  thrilling  memory,  now  a  mere 
platform  for  the  collection  of  mysterious  objects 
under  a  dust-sheet  on  the  lid.  "These,"  he  con- 
tinued, unveiling  them  with  an  air,  "are  the  Raf- 
fles Relics,  taken  from  his  rooms  in  the  Albany 
after  his  death  and  burial,  and  the  most  complete 
set  we've  got.  That's  his  centre-bit,  and  this  is 
the  bottle  of  rock-oil  he's  supposed  to  have  kept 
dipping  it  in  to  prevent  making  a  noise.  Here's 
the  revawlver  he  used  when  he  shot  at  a  gentleman 
on  the  roof  down  Horsham  way;  it  was  afterward 
taken  from  him  on  the  P.  &  O.  boat  before  he 
jumped  overboard." 

I  could  not  help  saying  I  understood  that  Raf- 
fles had  never  shot  at  anybody.  I  was  standing 
with  my  back  to  the  nearest  window,  my  hat 
jammed  over  my  brows  and  my  overcoat  collar  up 
to  my  ears. 

"That's  the  only  time  we  know  about,"  the 
clerk  admitted;  "and  it  couldn't  be  brought  'ome, 
or  his  precious  pal  would  have  got  more  than  he 
did.  This  empty  cawtridge  is  the  one  he  'id  the 
Emperor's  pearl  in,  on  the  Peninsular  and  Orient. 

259 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

These  gimlets  and  wedges  were  what  he  used  for 
fixin'  doors.  This  is  his  rope-ladder,  with  the  tele- 
scope walking-stick  he  used  to  hook  it  up  with; 
he's  said  to  have  'ad  it  with  him  the  night  he  dined 
with  the  Earl  of  Thornaby,  and  robbed  the  house 
before  dinner.  That's  his  life-preserver;  but  no 
one  can  make  out  what  this  little  thick  velvet  bag's 
for,  with  the  two  holes  and  the  elawstic  round 
each.     Perhaps  you  can  give  a  guess,  sir?" 

Raffles  had  taken  up  the  bag  that  he  had  in- 
vented for  the  noiseless  filing  of  keys.  Now  he 
handled  it  as  though  it  were  a  tobacco-pouch, 
putting  in  finger  and  thumb,  and  shrugging  over 
the  puzzle  with  a  delicious  face;  nevertheless,  he 
showed  me  a  few  grains  of  steel  filing  as  the  result 
of  his  investigations,  and  murmured  in  my  ear, 
"These  sweet  police!"  I,  for  my  part,  could  not 
but  examine  the  life-preserver  with  which  I  had 
once  smitten  Raffles  himself  to  the  ground: 
actually,  there  was  his  blood  upon  it  still;  and 
seeing  my  horror,  the  clerk  plunged  into  a  char- 
acteristically garbled  version  of  that  incident  also. 
It  happened  to  have  come  to  light  among  others 
at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  perhaps  had  its  share  in 
promoting  the  quality  of  mercy  which  had  un- 
doubtedly been  exercised  on  my  behalf.  But  the 
present   recital   was   unduly   trying,    and    Raffles 

260 


No  one  can  make  out  what  this  little  thick  velvet  bag's  for. 


The  Raffles  Relics 

created  a  noble  diversion  by  calling  attention  to  an 
early  photograph  of  himself,  which  may  still  hang 
on  the  wall  over  the  historic  chest,  but  which  I  had 
carefully  ignored.  It  shows  him  in  flannels,  after 
some  great  feat  upon  the  tented  field.  I  am  afraid 
there  is  a  Sullivan  between  his  lips,  a  look  of  lazy 
insolence  in  the  half-shut  eyes.  I  have  since  pos- 
sessed myself  of  a  copy,  and  it  is  not  Raffles  at 
his  best;  but  the  features  are  clean-cut  and  regular; 
and  I  often  wish  that  I  had  lent  it  to  the  artistic 
gentlemen  who  have  battered  the  statue  out  of  all 
likeness  to  the  man. 

"You  wouldn't  think  it  of  him,  would  you?" 
quoth  the  clerk.  "It  makes  you  understand 
how  no  one  ever  did  think  it  of  him  at  the 
time." 

The  youth  was  looking  full  at  Raffles,  with  the 
watery  eyes  of  unsuspecting  innocence.  I  itched 
to  emulate  the  fine  bravado  of  my  friend. 

"You  said  he  had  a  pal,"  I  observed,  sinking 
deeper  into  the  collar  of  my  coat.  "Haven't  you 
got  a  photograph  of  him?" 

The  pale  clerk  gave  such  a  sickly  smile,  I  could 
have  smacked  some  blood  into  his  pasty  face. 

"You  mean  Bunnv?"  said  the  familiar  fellow. 
"No,  sir,  he'd  be  out  of  place;  we've  only  room 
for  real  criminals  here.     Bunny  was  neither  one 

261 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

thing  nor  the  other.  He  could  follow  Raffles, 
but  that's  all  he  could  do.  He  was  no  good  on 
his  own.  Even  when  he  put  up  the  low-down 
job  of  robbing  his  old  'ome,  it's  believed  he  hadn't 
the  'eart  to  take  the  stuff  away,  and  Raffles  had 
to  break  in  a  second  time  for  it.  No,  sir,  we  don't 
bother  our  heads  about  Bunny;  we  shall  never 
hear  no  more  of  'im.  He  was  a  harmless  sort  of 
rotter,  if  you  awsk  me." 

I  had  not  asked  him,  and  I  was  almost  foam- 
ing under  the  respirator  that  I  was  making  of  my 
overcoat  collar.  I  only  hoped  that  Raffles  would 
say  something,  and  he  did. 

"The  only  case  I  remember  anything  about," 
he  remarked,  tapping  the  clamped  chest  with  his 
umbrella,  "was  this;  and  that  time,  at  all  events, 
the  man  outside  must  have  had  quite  as  much  to 
do  as  the  one  inside.  May  I  ask  what  you  keep 
in  it?" 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"I  imagined  more  relics  inside.  Hadn't  he 
some  dodge  of  getting  in  and  out  without  opening 
the  lid?" 

"Of  putting  his  head  out,  you  mean,"  returned 
the  clerk,  whose  knowledge  of  Raffles  and  his 
Relics  was  really  most  comprehensive  on  the 
whole.     He  moved  some  of  the  minor  memorials 

262 


The  Raffles  Relics 

and  with  his  penknife  raised  the  trap-door  in 
the  lid. 

"Only  a  skylight,"  remarked  Raffles,  deliciously 
unimpressed. 

"Why,  what  else  did  you  expect?"  asked  the 
clerk,  letting  the  trap-door  down  again,  and  look- 
ing sorry  that  he  had  taken  so  much  trouble. 

"A  backdoor,  at  least!"  replied  Raffles,  with 
such  a  sly  look  at  me  that  I  had  to  turn 
aside  to  smile.  It  was  the  last  time  I  smiled 
that   day. 

The  door  had  opened  as  I  turned,  and  an  un- 
mistakable detective  had  entered  with  two  more 
sight-seers  like  ourselves.  He  wore  the  hard, 
round  hat  and  the  dark,  thick  overcoat  which  one 
knows  at  a  glance  as  the  uniform  of  his  grade; 
and  for  one  awful  moment  his  steely  eye  was  upon 
us  in  a  flash  of  cold  inquiry.  Then  the  clerk 
emerged  from  the  recess  devoted  to  the  Raffles 
Relics,  and  the  alarming  interloper  conducted  his 
party  to  the  window  opposite  the  door. 

"Inspector  Druce,"  the  clerk  informed  us  in 
impressive  whispers,  "who  had  the  Chalk  Farm 
case  in  hand.  He'd  be  the  man  for  Raffles,  if 
Raffles  was  alive  to-day!" 

"I'm  sure  he  would,"  was  the  grave  reply.  "I 
should  be  very  sorry  to  have  a  man  like  that  after 

263 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

me.  But  what  a  run  there  seems  to  be  upon  your 
Black  Museum!" 

"There  isn't  reelly,  sir,"  whispered  the  clerk. 
"We  sometimes  go  weeks  on  end  without  having 
regular  visitors  like  you  two  gentlemen.  I  think 
those  are  friends  of  the  Inspector's,  come  to  see 
the  Chalk  Farm  photographs,  that  helped  to 
hang  his  man.  We've  a  lot  of  interesting  pho- 
tographs, sir,  if  you  like  to  have  a  look  at 
them." 

"If  it  won't  take  long,"  said  Raffles,  taking  out 
his  watch;  and  as  the  clerk  left  our  side  for  an 
instant  he  gripped  my  arm.  "This  is  a  bit  too 
hot,"  he  whispered,  "but  we  mustn't  cut  and  run 
like  rabbits.  That  might  be  fatal.  Hide  your 
face  in  the  photographs,  and  leave  everything  to 
me.  I'll  have  a  train  to  catch  as  soon  as  ever  I 
dare." 

I  obeyed  without  a  word,  and  with  the  less 
uneasiness  as  I  had  time  to  consider  the  situation. 
It  even  struck  me  that  Raffles  was  for  once  inclined 
to  exaggerate  the  undeniable  risk  that  we  ran  by 
remaining  in  the  same  room  with  an  officer  whom 
both  he  and  I  knew  only  too  well  by  name  and 
repute.  Raffles,  after  all,  had  aged  and  altered  out 
of  knowledge;  but  he  had  not  lost  the  nerve  that 
was  equal  to  a  far  more  direct  encounter  than  was 

264 


The  Raffles  Relics 

at  all  likely  to  be  forced  upon  us.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  was  most  improbable  that  a  distinguished 
detective  would  know  by  sight  an  obscure  delin- 
quent like  myself;  besides,  this  one  had  come  to  the 
front  since  my  day.  Yet  a  risk  it  was,  and  I  cer- 
tainly did  not  smile  as  I  bent  over  the  album  of 
horrors  produced  by  our  guide.  I  could  still  take 
an  interest  in  the  dreadful  photographs  of  mur- 
derous and  murdered  men;  they  appealed  to  the 
morbid  element  in  my  nature;  and  it  was  doubtless 
with  degenerate  unction  that  I  called  Raffles's  at- 
tention to  a  certain  scene  of  notorious  slaughter. 
There  was  no  response.  I  looked  round.  There 
was  no  Raffles  to  respond.  We  had  all  three  been 
examining  the  photographs  at  one  of  the  win- 
dows; at  another  three  newcomers  were  similarly 
engrossed;  and  without  one  word,  or  a  single 
sound,  Raffles  had  decamped  behind  all  our 
backs. 

Fortunately  the  clerk  was  himself  very  busy 
gloating  over  the  horrors  of  the  album;  before  he 
looked  round  I  had  hidden  my  astonishment,  but 
not  my  wrath,  of  which  I  had  the  instinctive  sense 
to  make  no  secret. 

"My  friend's  the  most  impatient  man  on  earth !" 
I  exclaimed.  "He  said  he  was  going  to  catch  a 
train,  and  now  he's  gone  without  a  word!" 

265 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 


"i 


'I  never  heard  him,"  said  the  clerk,  looking 
puzzled. 

"No  more  did  I;  but  he  did  touch  me  on  the 
shoulder,"  I  lied,  "and  say  something  or  other.  I 
was  too  deep  in  this  beastly  book  to  pay  much 
attention.  He  must  have  meant  that  he  was  oft. 
Well,  let  him  be  off  !    I  mean  to  see  all  that's  to  be 


seen." 


And  in  my  nervous  anxiety  to  allay  any  suspi- 
cions aroused  by  my  companion's  extraordinary  be- 
havior, I  outstayed  even  the  eminent  detective  and 
his  friends,  saw  them  examine  the  Raffles  Relics, 
heard  them  discuss  me  under  my  own  nose,  and  at 
last  was  alone  with  the  anaemic  clerk.  I  put  my 
hand  in  my  pocket,  and  measured  him  with  a  side- 
long eye.  The  tipping  system  is  nothing  less  than 
a  minor  bane  of  my  existence.  Not  that  one  is  a 
grudging  giver,  but  simply  because  in  so  many 
cases  it  is  so  hard  to  know  whom  to  tip  and  what 
to  tip  him.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  the  parting 
guest  who  has  not  parted  freely  enough,  and  that 
not  from  stinginess  but  the  want  of  a  fine  instinct 
on  the  point.  I  made  no  mistake,  however,  in  the 
case  of  the  clerk,  who  accepted  my  pieces  of  silver 
without  demur,  and  expressed  a  hope  of  seeing  the 
article  which  I  had  assured  him  I  was  about  to 
write.     He  has  had  some  years  to  wait  for  it,  but 

266 


The  Raffles  Relics 

I  flatter  myself  that  these  belated  pages  will  occa- 
sion more  interest  than  offense  if  they  ever  do  meet 
those  watery  eyes. 

Twilight  was  falling  when  I  reached  the  street; 
the  sky  behind  St.  Stephen's  had  flushed  and  black- 
ened like  an  angry  face;  the  lamps  were  lit,  and 
under  every  one  I  was  unreasonable  enough  to  look 
for  Raffles.  Then  I  made  foolishly  sure  that  I 
should  find  him  hanging  about  the  station,  and 
hung  thereabouts  myself  until  one  Richmond  train 
had  gone  without  me.  In  the  end  I  walked  over 
the  bridge  to  Waterloo,  and  took  the  first  train  to 
Teddington  instead.  That  made  a  shorter  walk 
of  it,  but  I  had  to  grope  my  way  through  a  white 
fog  from  the  river  to  Ham  Common,  and  it  was 
the  hour  of  our  cosy  dinner  when  I  reached  our 
place  of  retirement.  There  was  only  a  flicker  of 
firelight  on  the  blinds :  I  was  the  first  to  return 
after  all.  It  was  nearly  four  hours  since  Raffles 
had  stolen  away  from  my  side  in  the  ominous  pre- 
cincts of  Scotland  Yard.  Where  could  he  be  ?  Our 
landlady  wrung  her  hands  over  him;  she  had 
cooked  a  dinner  after  her  favorite's  heart,  and  I 
let  it  spoil  before  making  one  of  the  most  melan- 
choly meals  of  my  life. 

Up  to  midnight  there  was  no  sign  of  him;  but 
long  before  this  time  I  had  reassured  our  landlady 

267 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

with  a  voice  and  face  that  must  have  given  my 
words  the  lie.  I  told  her  that  Mr.  Ralph  (as  she 
used  to  call  him)  had  said  something  about  going 
to  the  theatre;  that  I  thought  he  had  given  up  the 
idea,  but  I  must  have  been  mistaken,  and  should 
certainly  sit  up  for  him.  The  attentive  soul 
brought  in  a  plate  of  sandwiches  before  she  re- 
tired; and  I  prepared  to  make  a  night  of  it  in  a 
chair  by  the  sitting-room  fire.  Darkness  and  bed 
I  could  not  face  in  my  anxiety.  In  a  way  I  felt 
as  though  duty  and  loyalty  called  me  out  into  the 
winter's  night;  and  yet  whither  should  I  turn  to 
look  for  Raffles?  I  could  think  of  but  one  place, 
and  to  seek  him  there  would  be  to  destroy  myself 
without  aiding  him.  It  was  my  growing  convic- 
tion that  he  had  been  recognized  when  leaving 
Scotland  Yard,  and  either  taken  then  and  there, 
or  else  hunted  into  some  new  place  of  hiding.  It 
would  all  be  in  the  morning  papers;  and  it  was  all 
his  own  fault.  He  had  thrust  his  head  into  the 
lion's  mouth,  and  the  lion's  jaws  had  snapped. 
Had  he  managed  to  withdraw  his  head  in  time? 

There  was  a  bottle  at  my  elbow,  and  that  night 
I  say  deliberately  that  it  was  not  my  enemy  but  my 
friend.  It  procured  me  at  last  some  surcease  from 
my  suspense.  I  fell  fast  asleep  in  my  chair  before 
the  fire.     The  lamp  was  still  burning,  and  the  fire 

268 


The  Raffles  Relics 

red,  when  I  awoke;  but  I  sat  very  stiff  in  the  iron 
clutch  of  a  wintry  morning.  Suddenly  I  slued 
round  in  my  chair.  And  there  was  Raffles  in  a 
chair  behind  me,  with  the  door  open  behind  him, 
quietly  taking  off  his  boots. 

"Sorry  to  wake  you,  Bunny,"  said  he.  "I 
thought  I  was  behaving  like  a  mouse;  but  after  a 
three  hours'  tramp  one's  feet  are  all  heels." 

I  did  not  get  up  and  fall  upon  his  neck.  I  sat 
back  in  my  chair  and  blinked  with  bitterness  upon 
his  selfish  insensibility.  He  should  not  know  what 
I  had  been  through  on  his  account. 

"Walk  out  from  town?"  I  inquired,  as  indiffer- 
ently as  though  he  were  in  the  habit  of  doing  so. 

"From  Scotland  Yard,"  he  answered,  stretching 
himself  before  the  fire  in  his  stocking  soles. 

"Scotland  Yard !"  I  echoed.  "Then  I  was  right ; 
that's  where  you  were  all  the  time;  and  yet  you 
managed  to  escape !" 

I  had  risen  excitedly  in  my  turn. 

"Of  course  I  did,"  replied  Raffles.  "I  never 
thought  there  would  be  much  difficulty  about  that, 
but  there  was  even  less  than  I  anticipated.  I  did 
once  find  myself  on  one  side  of  a  sort  of  counter, 
and  an  officer  dozing  at  his  desk  at  the  other  side. 
I  thought  it  safest  to  wake  him  up  and  make  in- 
quiries about  a  mythical  purse  left  in  a  phantom 

269 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

hansom  outside  the  Carlton.  And  the  way  the 
fellow  fired  me  out  of  that  was  another  credit  to 
the  Metropolitan  Police :  it's  only  in  the  savage 
countries  that  they  would  have  troubled  to  ask  how 
one  had  got  in." 

"And  how  did  you?"  I  asked.  "And  in  the 
Lord's  name,  Raffles,  when  and  why?" 

Raffles  looked  down  on  me  under  raised  eye- 
brows, as  he  stood  with  his  coat  tails  to  the  dying 
fire. 

"How  and  when,  Bunny,  you  know  as  well  as 
I  do,"  said  he,  cryptically.  "And  at  last  you  shall 
hear  the  honest  why  and  wherefore.  I  had  more 
reasons  for  going  to  Scotland  Yard,  my  dear  fel- 
low, than  I  had  the  face  to  tell  you  at  the  time." 

"I  don't  care  why  you  went  there !"  I  cried.  "I 
want  to  know  why  you  stayed,  or  went  back,  or 
whatever  it  was  you  may  have  done.  I  thought 
they  had  got  you,  and  you  had  given  them  the 
slip?" 

Raffles  smiled  as  he  shook  his  head. 

"No,  no,  Bunny;  I  prolonged  the  visit,  as  I  paid 
it,  of  my  own  accord.  As  for  my  reasons,  they  are 
far  too  many  for  me  to  tell  you  them  all;  they 
rather  weighed  upon  me  as  I  walked  out;  but 
you'll  see  them  for  yourself  if  you  turn  round." 

I  was  standing  with  my  back  to  the  chair  in 

270 


The  Raffies  Relics 

which  I  had  been  asleep;  behind  the  chair  was  the 
round  lodging-house  table;  and  there,  reposing  on 
the  cloth  with  the  whiskey  and  sandwiches,  was  the 
whole  collection  of  Raffles  Relics  which  had  occu- 
pied the  lid  of  the  silver-chest  in  the  Black  Museum 
at  Scotland  Yard !  The  chest  alone  was  missing. 
There  was  the  revolver  that  I  had  only  once  heard 
fired,  and  there  the  blood-stained  life-preserver, 
brace-and-bit,  bottle  of  rock-oil,  velvet  bag,  rope- 
ladder,  walking-stick,  gimlets,  wedges,  and  even 
the  empty  cartridge-case  which  had  once  concealed 
the  gift  of  a  civilized  monarch  to  a  potentate  of 
color. 

"I  was  a  real  Father  Christmas,"  said  Raffles, 
"when  I  arrived.  It's  a  pity  you  weren't  awake  to 
appreciate  the  scene.  It  was  more  edifying  than 
the  one  I  found.  You  never  caught  me  asleep  in 
my  chair,  Bunny !" 

He  thought  I  had  merely  fallen  asleep  in  my 
chair!  He  could  not  see  that  I  had  been  sitting 
up  for  him  all  night  long!  The  hint  of  a  temper- 
ance homily,  on  top  of  all  I  had  borne,  and  from 
Raffles  of  all  mortal  men,  tried  my  temper  to  its 
last  limit — but  a  flash  of  late  enlightenment  en- 
abled me  just  to  keep  it. 

"Where  did  you  hide?"  I  asked  grimly. 

"At  the  Yard  itself." 

271 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

"So  I  gather;  but  whereabouts  at  the  Yard?" 

"Can  you  ask,  Bunny?" 

"I  am  asking." 

"It's  where  I  once  hid  before." 

"You  don't  mean  in  the  chest?" 

"I  do." 

Our  eyes  met  for  a  minute. 

"You  may  have  ended  up  there,"  I  conceded. 
"But  where  did  you  go  first  when  you  slipped  out 
behind  my  back,  and  how  the  devil  did  you  know 
where  to  go  ?" 

"I  never  did  slip  out,"  said  Raffles,  "behind  your 
back.     I  slipped  in." 

"Into  the  chest?" 

"Exactly." 

I  burst  out  laughing  in  his  face. 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  saw  all  these  things  on  the 
lid  just  afterward.  Not  one  of  them  was  moved. 
I  watched  that  detective  show  them  to  his  friends. 

"And  I  heard  him." 

"But  not  from  the  inside  of  the  chest!" 

"From  the  inside  of  the  chest,  Bunny.  Don't 
look  like  that — it's  foolish.  Try  to  recall  a  few 
words  that  went  before,  between  the  idiot  in  the 
collar  and  me.  Don't  you  remember  my  asking 
him  if  there  was  anything  in  the  chest?" 

"Yes." 

272 


The  Raffles  Relics 

"One  had  to  be  sure  it  was  empty,  you  see. 
Then  I  asked  if  there  was  a  backdoor  to  the  chest 
as  well  as  a  skylight." 

"I  remember." 

"I  suppose  you  thought  all  that  meant  nothing?" 

"I  didn't  look  for  a  meaning." 

"You  wouldn't;  it  would  never  occur  to  you  that 
I  might  want  to  find  out  whether  anybody  at  the 
Yard  had  found  out  that  there  was  something  pre- 
cisely in  the  nature  of  a  sidedoor — it  isn't  a  back- 
door— to  that  chest.  Well,  there  is  one ;  there  was 
one  soon  after  I  took  the  chest  back  from  your 
rooms  to  mine,  in  the  good  old  days.  You  push 
one  of  the  handles  down — which  no  one  ever  does 
— and  the  whole  of  that  end  opens  like  the  front 
of  a  doll's  house.  I  saw  that  was  what  I  ought  to 
have  done  at  first:  it's  so  much  simpler  than  the 
trap  at  the  top ;  and  one  likes  to  get  a  thing  perfect 
for  its  own  sake.  Besides,  the  trick  had  not  been 
spotted  at  the  bank,  and  I  thought  I  might  bring 
it  off  again  some  day;  meanwhile,  in  one's  bed- 
room, with  lots  of  things  on  top,  what  a  port  in  a 
sudden  squall!" 

I  asked  why  I  had  never  heard  of  the  improve- 
ment before,  not  so  much  at  the  time  it  was  made, 
but  in  these  later  days,  when  there  were  fewer  se- 
crets between  us,  and  this  one  could  avail  him  no 

273 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

more.  But  I  did  not  put  the  question  out  of 
pique.  I  put  it  out  of  sheer  obstinate  incredulity. 
And  Raffles  looked  at  me  without  replying,  until 
I  read  the  explanation  in  his  look. 

"I  see,"  I  said.  "You  used  to  get  into  it  to  hide 
from  me  I" 

"My  dear  Bunny,  I  am  not  always  a  very  genial 
man,"  he  answered;  "but  when  you  let  me  have  a 
key  of  your  rooms  I  could  not  very  well  refuse  you 
one  of  mine,  although  I  picked  your  pocket  of  it 
in  the  end.  I  will  only  say  that  when  I  had  no 
wish  to  see  you,  Bunny,  I  must  have  been  quite 
unfit  for  human  society,  and  it  was  the  act  of  a 
friend  to  deny  you  mine.  I  don't  think  it  hap- 
pened more  than  once  or  twice.  You  can  afford  to 
forgive  a  fellow  after  all  these  years !" 

"That,  yes,"  I  replied  bitterly;  "but  not  this, 
Raffles." 

"Why  not?  I  really  hadn't  made  up  my  mind 
to  do  what  I  did.  I  had  merely  thought  of  it  It 
was  that  smart  officer  in  the  same  room  that  made 
me  do  it  without  thinking  twice." 

"And  we  never  even  heard  you !"  I  murmured, 
in  a  voice  of  involuntary  admiration  which  vexed 
me  with  myself.  "But  we  might  just  as  well!"  I 
was  as  quick  to  add  in  my  former  tone. 

"Why,  Bunny?" 

274 


The  Raffles  Relics 

"We  shall  be  traced  in  no  time  through  our 
ticket  of  admission." 

"Did  they  collect  it?" 

"No;  but  you  heard  how  very  few  are  issued." 

"Exactly.  They  sometimes  go  weeks  on  end 
without  a  regular  visitor.  It  was  I  who  extracted 
that  piece  of  information,  Bunny,  and  I  did  noth- 
ing rash  until  I  had.  Don't  you  see  that  with  any 
luck  it  will  be  two  or  three  weeks  before  they  are 
likely  to  discover  their  loss?" 

I  was  beginning  to  see. 

"And  then,  pray,  how  are  they  going  to  bring  it 
home  to  us?  Why  should  they  even  suspect  us, 
Bunny?  I  left  early;  that's  all  I  did.  You  took 
my  departure  admirably;  you  couldn't  have  said 
more  or  less  if  I  had  coached  you  myself.  I  relied 
on  you,  Bunny,  and  you  never  more  completely 
justified  my  confidence.  The  sad  thing  is  that  you 
have  ceased  to  rely  on  me.  Do  you  really  think 
that  I  would  leave  the  place  in  such  a  state  that  the 
first  person  who  came  in  with  a  duster  would  see 
'  that  there  had  been  a  robbery?" 

I  denied  the  thought  with  all  energy,  though  it 
perished  only  as  I  spoke. 

"Have  you  forgotten  the  duster  that  was  over 
these  things,  Bunny?  Have  you  forgotten  all  the 
other  revolvers  and  life-preservers  that  there  were 

275 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

to  choose  from?  I  chose  most  carefully,  and  I 
replaced  my  relics  with  a  mixed  assortment  of  other 
people's  which  really  look  just  as  well.  The  rope- 
ladder  that  now  supplants  mine  is,  of  course,  no 
patch  upon  it,  but  coiled  up  on  the  chest  it  really 
looks  much  the  same.  To  be  sure,  there  was  no 
second  velvet  bag;  but  I  replaced  my  stick  with 
another  quite  like  it,  and  I  even  found  an  empty 
cartridge  to  understudy  the  setting  of  the  Polyne- 
sian pearl.  You  see  the  sort  of  fellow  they  have 
to  show  people  round:  do  you  think  he's  the  kind 
to  see  the  difference  next  time,  or  to  connect  it  with 
us  if  he  does?  One  left  much  the  same  things, 
lying  much  as  he  left  them,  under  a  dust-sheet 
which  is  only  taken  off  for  the  benefit  of  the  curi- 
ous, who  often  don't  turn  up  for  weeks  on  end." 

I  admitted  that  we  might  be  safe  for  three  or 
four  weeks.    Raffles  held  out  his  hand. 

"Then  let  us  be  friends  about  it,  Bunny,  and 
smoke  the  cigarette  of  Sullivan  and  peace !  A  lot 
may  happen  in  three  or  four  weeks;  and  what 
should  you  say  if  this  turned  out  to  be  the  last  as 
well  as  the  least  of  all  my  crimes  ?  I  must  own  that 
it  seems  to  me  their  natural  and  fitting  end,  though 
I  might  have  stopped  more  characteristically  than 
with  a  mere  crime  of  sentiment.  No,  I  make  no 
promises,  Bunny;  now  I  have  got  these  things,  I 

2j6 


The  Raffles  Relics 

may  be  unable  to  resist  using  them  once  more.  But 
with  this  war  one  gets  all  the  excitement  one  re- 
quires— and  rather  more  than  usual  may  happen 
in  three  or  four  weeks !" 

Was  he  thinking  even  then  of  volunteering  for 
the  front?  Had  he  already  set  his  heart  on  the 
one  chance  of  some  atonement  for  his  life — nay, 
on  the  very  death  he  was  to  die?  I  never  knew, 
and  shall  never  know.  Yet  his  words  were 
strangely  prophetic,  even  to  the  three  or  four 
weeks  in  which  those  events  happened  that  imper- 
illed the  fabric  of  our  empire,  and  rallied  her  sons 
from  the  four  winds  to  fight  beneath  her  banner  on 
the  veldt.  It  all  seems  very  ancient  history  now. 
But  I  remember  nothing  better  or  more  vividly 
than  the  last  words  of  Raffles  upon  his  last  crime, 
unless  it  be  the  pressure  of  his  hand  as  he  said  them, 
or  the  rather  sad  twinkle  in  his  tired  eyes. 


277 


The  Last  Word 

THE  last  of  all  these  tales  of  Raffles  is  from 
a  fresher  and  a  sweeter  pen.  I  give  it  ex- 
actly as  it  came  to  me,  in  a  letter  which  meant  more 
to  me  than  it  can  possibly  mean  to  any  other 
reader.  And  yet,  it  may  stand  for  something  with 
those  for  whom  these  pale  reflections  have  a  tithe  of 
the  charm  that  the  real  man  had  for  me;  and  it  is 
to  leave  such  persons  thinking  yet  a  little  better  of 
him  (and  not  wasting  another  thought  on  me)  that 
I  am  permitted  to  retail  the  very  last  word  about 
their  hero  and  mine. 

The  letter  was  my  first  healing  after  a  chance 
encounter  and  a  sleepless  night;  and  I  print  every 
word  of  it  except  the  last. 

"39  Campden  Grove  Court,  W., 

"June  28,  1900. 
"Dear  Harry:  You  may  have  wondered  at  the 
very  few  words  I  could  find  to  say  to  you  when  we 
met  so  strangely  yesterday.  I  did  not  mean  to  be 
unkind.  I  was  grieved  to  see  you  so  cruelly  hurt 
and  lame.     I  could  not  grieve  when  at  last  I  made 

278 


The  Last  Word 

you  tell  me  how  it  happened.  I  honor  and  envy 
every  man  of  you — every  name  in  those  dreadful 
lists  that  fill  the  papers  every  day.  But  I  knew 
about  Mr.  Raffles,  and  I  did  not  know  about  you, 
and  there  was  something  I  longed  to  tell  you  about 
him,  something  I  could  not  tell  you  in  a  minute  in 
the  street,  or  indeed  by  word  of  mouth  at  all.  That 
is  why  I  asked  you  for  your  address. 

"You  said  I  spoke  as  if  I  had  known  Mr.  Raffles. 
Of  course  I  have  often  seen  him  playing  cricket, 
and  heard  about  him  and  you.  But  I  only  once 
met  him,  and  that  was  the  night  after  you  and  I 
met  last.  I  have  always  supposed  that  you  knew 
all  about  our  meeting.  Yesterday  I  could  see  that 
you  knew  nothing.  So  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
tell  you  every  word. 

"That  night — I  mean  the  next  night — they  were 
all  going  out  to  several  places,  but  I  stayed  behind 
at  Palace  Gardens.  I  had  gone  up  to  the  drawing- 
room  after  dinner,  and  was  just  putting  on  the 
lights,  when  in  walked  Mr.  Raffles  from  the  bal- 
cony. I  knew  him  at  once,  because  I  happened  to 
have  watched  him  make  his  hundred  at  Lord's  only 
the  day  before.  He  seemed  surprised  that  no  one 
had  told  me  he  was  there,  but  the  whole  thing  was 
such  a  surprise  that  I  hardly  thought  of  that.  I 
am  afraid  I  must  say  that  it  was  not  a  very  pleasant 

279 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

surprise.  I  felt  instinctively  that  he  had  come  from 
you,  and  I  confess  that  for  the  moment  it  made  me 
very  angry  indeed.  Then  in  a  breath  he  assured 
me  that  you  knew  nothing  of  his  coming,  that  you 
would  never  have  allowed  him  to  come,  but  that 
he  had  taken  it  upon  himself  as  your  intimate 
friend  and  one  who  would  be  mine  as  well.  (I 
said  that  I  would  tell  you  every  word.) 

"Well,  we  stood  looking  at  each  other  for  some 
time,  and  I  was  never  more  convinced  of  any- 
body's straightness  and  sincerity;  but  he  was 
straight  and  sincere  with  me,  and  true  to  you  that 
night,  whatever  he  may  have  been  before  and 
after.  So  I  asked  him  why  he  had  come,  and  what 
had  happened;  and  he  said  it  was  not  what  had 
happened,  but  what  might  happen  next;  so  I  asked 
him  if  he  was  thinking  of  you,  and  he  just  nodded, 
and  told  me  that  I  knew  very  well  what  you  had 
done.  But  I  began  to  wonder  whether  Mr.  Raffles 
himself  knew,  and  I  tried  to  get  him  to  tell  me 
what  you  had  done,  and  he  said  I  knew  as  well  as 
he  did  that  you  were  one  of  the  two  men  who  had 
come  to  the  house  the  night  before.  I  took  some 
time  to  answer.  I  was  quite  mystified  by  his  man- 
ner. At  last  I  asked  him  how  he  knew.  I  can 
hear  his  answer  now. 

"  'Because  I  was  the  other  man,'  he  said  quite 

280 


The  Last  Word 

quietly;  'because  I  led  him  blindfold  into  the  whole 
business,  and  would  rather  pay  the  shot  than  see 
poor  Bunny  suffer  for  it.' 

"Those  were  his  words,  but  as  he  said  them  he 
made  their  meaning  clear  by  going  over  to  the  bell, 
and  waiting  with  his  linger  ready  to  ring  for  what- 
ever assistance  or  protection  I  desired.  Of  course 
I  would  not  let  him  ring  at  all;  in  fact,  at  first  I 
refused  to  believe  him.  Then  he  led  me  out  into 
the  balcony,  and  showed  me  exactly  how  he  had 
got  up  and  in.  He  had  broken  in  for  the  second 
night  running,  and  all  to  tell  me  that  the  first  night 
he  had  brought  you  with  him  on  false  pretences. 
He  had  to  tell  me  a  great  deal  more  before  I  could 
quite  believe  him.  But  before  he  went  (as  he  had 
come)  I  was  the  one  woman  in  the  world  who 
knew  that  A.  J.  Raffles,  the  great  cricketer,  and  the 
so-called  'amateur  cracksman'  of  equal  notoriety, 
were  one  and  the  same  person. 

"He  had  told  me  his  secret,  thrown  himself  on 
my  mercy,  and  put  his  liberty  if  not  his  life  in  my 
hands,  but  all  for  your  sake,  Harry,  to  right  you 
in  my  eyes  at  his  own  expense.  And  yesterday  I 
could  see  that  you  knew  nothing  whatever  about  it, 
that  your  friend  had  died  without  telling  you  of 
his  act  of  real  and  yet  vain  self-sacrifice !  Harry, 
I  can  only  say  that  now  I  understand  vour  friend- 

281 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

ship,  and  the  dreadful  lengths  to  which  it  carried 
you.  How  many  in  your  place  would  not  have 
gone  as  far  for  such  a  friend?  Since  that  night, 
at  any  rate,  I  for  one  have  understood.  It  has 
grieved  me  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  Harry,  but  I 
have  always  understood. 

"He  spoke  to  me  quite  simply  and  frankly  of  his 
life.  It  was  wonderful  to  me  then  that  he  should 
speak  of  it  as  he  did,  and  still  more  wonderful  that 
I  should  sit  and  listen  to  him  as  I  did.  But  I  have 
often  thought  about  it  since,  and  have  long 
ceased  to  wonder  at  myself.  There  was  an  abso- 
lute magnetism  about  Mr.  Raffles  which  neither 
you  nor  I  could  resist.  He  had  the  strength  of 
personality  which  is  a  different  thing  from  strength 
of  character;  but  when  you  meet  both  kinds  to- 
gether, they  carry  the  ordinary  mortal  off  his  or 
her  feet.  You  must  not  imagine  you  are  the  only 
one  who  would  have  served  and  followed  him  as 
you  did.  When  he  told  me  it  was  all  a  game  to 
him,  and  the  one  game  he  knew  that  was  always 
exciting,  always  full  of  danger  and  of  drama,  I 
could  just  then  have  found  it  in  my  heart  to  try  the 
game  myself!  Not  that  he  treated  me  to  any 
ingenious  sophistries  or  paradoxical  perversities. 
It  was  just  his  natural  charm  and  humor,  and  a 
touch  of  sadness  with  it  all,  that  appealed  to  some- 

282 


The  Last  Word 

thing  deeper  than  one's  reason  and  one's  sense  of 
right.  Glamour,  I  suppose,  is  the  word.  Yet 
there  was  far  more  in  him  than  that.  There  were 
depths,  which  called  to  depths;  and  you  will  not 
misunderstand  me  when  I  say  I  think  it  touched 
him  that  a  woman  should  listen  to  him  as  I  did, 
and  in  such  circumstances.  I  know  that  it  touched 
me  to  think  of  such  a  life  so  spent,  and  that  I  came 
to  myself  and  implored  him  to  give  it  all  up.  I 
don't  think  I  went  on  my  knees  over  it.  But  I  am 
afraid  I  did  cry;  and  that  was  the  end.  He  pre- 
tended not  to  notice  anything,  and  then  in  an  instant 
he  froze  everything  with  a  flippancy  which  jarred 
horribly  at  the  time,  but  has  ever  since  touched  me 
more  than  all  the  rest.  I  remember  that  I  wanted 
to  shake  hands  at  the  end.  But  Mr.  Raffles  only 
shook  his  head,  and  for  one  instant  his  face  was 
as  sad  as  it  was  gallant  and  gay  all  the  rest  of  the 
time.  Then  he  went  as  he  had  come,  in  his  own 
dreadful  way,  and  not  a  soul  in  the  house  knew 
that  he  had  been.  And  even  you  were  never  told ! 
"I  didn't  mean  to  write  all  this  about  your  own 
friend,  whom  you  knew  so  much  better  yourself, 
yet  you  see  that  even  you  did  not  know  how  nobly 
he  tried  to  undo  the  wrong  he  had  done  you;  and 
now  I  think  I  know  why  he  kept  it  to  himself.  It 
is  fearfully  late — or  early — I  seem  to  have  been 

283 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

writing  all  night — and  I  will  explain  the  matter  in 
the  fewest  words.  I  promised  Mr.  Raffles  that  I 
would  write  to  you,  Harry,  and  see  you  if  I  could. 
Well,  I  did  write,  and  I  did  mean  to  see  you,  but 
I  never  had  an  answer  to  what  I  wrote.  It  was 
only  one  line,  and  I  have  long  known  you  never 
received  it.  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  write  more, 
and  even  those  few  words  were  merely  slipped  into 
one  of  the  books  which  you  had  given  me.  Years 
afterward  these  books,  with  my  name  in  them, 
must  have  been  found  in  your  rooms;  at  any  rate 
they  were  returned  to  me  by  somebody;  and  you 
could  never  have  opened  them,  for  there  was  my 
line  where  I  had  left  it.  Of  course  you  had  never 
seen  it,  and  that  was  all  my  fault.  But  it  was  too 
late  to  write  again.  Mr.  Raffles  was  supposed  to 
have  been  drowned,  and  everything  was  known 
about  you  both.  But  I  still  kept  my  own  inde- 
pendent knowledge  to  myself;  to  this  day,  no  one 
else  knows  that  you  were  one  of  the  two  in  Palace 
Gardens;  and  I  still  blame  myself  more  than  you 
may  think  for  nearly  everything  that  has  hap- 
pened since. 

"You  said  yesterday  that  your  going  to  the  war 
and  getting  wounded  wiped  out  nothing  that  had 
gone  before.  I  hope  you  are  not  growing  morbid 
about  the  past.    It  is  not  for  me  to  condone  it,  and 

284 


The  Last  Word 

yet  I  know  that  Mr.  Raffles  was  what  he  was  be- 
cause he  loved  danger  and  adventure,  and  that  you 
were  what  you  were  because  you  loved  Mr.  Raffles. 
But,  even  admitting  it  was  all  as  bad  as  bad  could 
be,  he  is  dead,  and  you  are  punished.  The  world 
forgives,  if  it  does  not  forget.  You  are  young 
enough  to  live  everything  down.  Your  part  in  the 
war  will  help  you  in  more  ways  than  one.  You 
were  always  fond  of  writing.  You  have  now 
enough  to  write  about  for  a  literary  lifetime.  You 
must  make  a  new  name  for  yourself.  You  must 
Harry,  and  you  will! 

"I  suppose  you  know  that  my  aunt,  Lady  Mel- 
rose, died  some  years  ago  ?  She  was  the  best  friend 
I  had  in  the  world,  and  it  is  thanks  to  her  that  I  am 
living  my  own  life  now  in  the  one  way  after  my 
own  heart.  This  is  a  new  block  of  flats,  one  of 
those  where  they  do  everything  for  you;  and 
though  mine  is  tiny,  it  is  more  than  all  I  shall  ever 
want.  One  does  just  exactly  what  one  likes — and 
you  must  blame  that  habit  for  all  that  is  least  con- 
ventional in  what  I  have  said.  Yet  I  should  like 
you  to  understand  why  it  is  that  I  have  said  so 
much,  and,  indeed,  left  nothing  unsaid.  It  is  be- 
cause I  want  never  to  have  to  say  or  hear  another 
word  about  anything  that  is  past  and  over.  You 
may  answer  that  I  run  no  risk!     Nevertheless,  if 

285 


A  Thief  in  the  Night 

you  did  care  to  come  and  see  me  some  day  as  an  old 
friend,  we  might  find  one  or  two  new  points  of  con- 
tact, for  I  am  rather  trying  to  write  myself !  You 
might  almost  guess  as  much  from  this  letter;  it  is 
long  enough  for  anything;  but,  Harry,  if  it  makes 
you  realize  that  one  of  your  oldest  friends  is  glad 
to  have  seen  you,  and  will  be  gladder  still  to  see 
you  again,  and  to  talk  of  anything  and  everything 
except  the  past,  I  shall  cease  to  be  ashamed  even  of 
its  length ! 

"And  so  good-by  for  the  present  from 


a  11 


I  omit  her  name  and  nothing  else.  Did  I  not 
say  in  the  beginning  that  it  should  never  be  sullied 
by  association  with  mine?  And  yet — and  yet — 
even  as  I  write  I  have  a  hope  in  my  heart  of  hearts 
which  is  not  quite  consistent  with  that  sentiment. 
It  is  as  faint  a  hope  as  man  ever  had,  and  yet  its 
audacity  makes  the  pen  tremble  in  my  fingers.  But, 
if  it  be  ever  realized,  I  shall  owe  more  than  I  could 
deserve  in  a  century  of  atonement  to  one  who 
atoned  more  nobly  than  I  ever  can.  And  to  think 
that  to  the  end  I  never  heard  one  word  of  it  from 
Raffles ! 

THE    END 


286 


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